


Hero of the People

by MoonlitWaterSunnyRiver



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Canon Blending, Canon Rewrite, Gen, Multi, Queer Gen, Queer Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 89,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3260921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonlitWaterSunnyRiver/pseuds/MoonlitWaterSunnyRiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the transmutation that dooms his brother to a life as a living doll and rips away two of his limbs, William Elric joins the military to find what he needs. But between the mysterious homunculi, his sultry, sarcastic commanding officer Solaris and nasty comments on his miniskirts, Will might find his journey tougher than he bargained for. Multiple character-switch AU! [Homunculi from both canons switched with main heroes.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude 12-21

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! So I published the first 25 chapters of this on Fanfiction.net, and now that I've hit a milestone, I figured I should bring it here too! Chapters will be updated on both platforms, and for more information on all my works (but primarily this since it is my epic-length project), check out my tumblr at moonlitwatersunnyriver.tumblr.com. I have fanart, playlists, information and an open ask box there!
> 
> About the story - Updates are usually between 2 weeks and a month apart. Comments are really, really appreciated! All the chapter titles and beginning quotes are taken from songs, all of which are cited in each chapter. I strongly suggest listening to the songs because I usually listen to them while writing, and they tend to fit the mood pretty well.
> 
> Song for the first chapter is by AFI.
> 
> Trigger Warnings (for this chapter): blood, body horror, reference to eye trauma.
> 
> Enjoy!

~1~ 

_This is what I brought you, this you can keep,_

_This is what I brought, you may forget me._

_I promise you my heart, just promise to sing,_

_Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep._

_- **Prelude 12-21**_

****

            Selim Bradley woke up at eleven o’clock on a stormy night with the unshakable, unmistakable feeling that something was terribly wrong.

            He sat up, rubbing his eyes and trying to locate the source of his discomfort. One he’d learned in his ten short years was never to ignore his gut feelings – they hadn’t been wrong yet. He’d felt like this the night before he’d gotten the news of his mother’s death. It came to him, crystal clear and insistent. _Will and Alex are in trouble._

            His first instinct was to run down to their house, tumble down the hill and knock on their door until he woke them up, saw their faces and proved his intuition wrong. But fear stopped him – and instead, he crawled out from underneath his covers, touching his feet to the floorboards and trying to ignore the prickling feeling at the back of his neck. Slowly, quietly, afraid that shattering the silence would bring some danger down on his head, he made his way through the open door to the other room, where his father lay sleeping. “Dad,” he whispered, although it came out sounding like a shout in the stillness.

            There was no response, although he could see the rise and fall of his breath. Selim touched his shoulder lightly, then grasped it and gave it a shake. “Dad, wake up.”

            King began to stir. “Selim? What’s the matter?” He turned around, one dark eye fixing on his son’s dark silhouette and the other, milky white and sightless, staring out into empty space.

            “It’s…” He swallowed. “I think something’s wrong.”

            “Where?” asked King, already sitting up and reaching for his eyepatch. It hurt him to look at anything too long with the destroyed eye, and he fitted the cord over his head, making sure the black leather covered not only his eye but the scar that crossed it.

            “Down the hill. Will and Alex.” Already, the tugging sense of _wrongness_ was starting to fade into the realm of bad dreams, and he was about to smile and dismiss it, when a flash brighter and bluer than lightning ignited the sky and lit up every window.

            The feeling returned, twice as strong.

            The quiet static of the storm shattered with a bloodcurdling scream. Selim knew it.

            “ALEX!” He ran for the front door, slamming into it as his shaking, sweaty hands searched for purchase on the knob. Finally, he twisted it to the side, flinging the door open and letting it slam into the wall as he hurtled out into the rain.

            “Selim, stop.” The leathery hand on his shoulder was gentle but unyielding, and he looked up at his father with a scowl. “It’s not safe.”

            He shook his head. “I don’t care. They need help!” He tried to tug himself out of King’s grip, but to no avail. “ALEX! WILL! I’M COMING!” he yelled, but the wind grabbed his words and threw them back in his face.

            “Fine. But stay behind me, son.”

            Selim growled, but with a sigh, fell behind King – who, he noticed, had his sword with him, belt strapped on over his blue striped pyjamas.

            They went slowly, bare feet squelching and sliding in the muddy disaster that the rain had made of the hill. With every cautious step, the prickling at the back of Selim’s neck intensified, to the point where he could begin to identify the cause.

            Alchemy.

            Another scream split the air – deeper, hoarser, although few ears could discern the difference that only a year could make – and unwilling to be restrained any longer, Selim  took off down the rest of the hill. The mud, as if sensing his need for swiftness, tripped him up and sent him sliding down to the ditch at the foot of the short tumble.

            He immediately sprang to his feet, reaching for the handle of the closest door (the concrete portal that led to the basement). The words he was hearing didn’t fully process, muffled as they were by the white noise all around, but just as his fingers brushed the doorknob, another flash lit up the world. It took a few seconds for his vision to clear, and he’d fallen to the ground. Dad was standing over him.

            “Selim, you stay here.”

            “But –“

            “I said, stay here!” King’s tone was that of a soldier, and Selim nodded, lifting himself from the ground again.

            King laid his hand carefully on the handle, and then twisted it to open the door. It wasn’t locked. The air that drifted out smelt putrid, coppery.

            It was the smell that pervaded the automail surgery room in their house.

            Scarred face growing grimmer and grimmer with every moment, King advanced into the darkness. Selim twisted his toe into the mud, shivering as the rain slithered its way between his pyjama shirt and back. Bad things always happened when it was raining. Briefly, he wondered if Daddy’s knee was hurting. Storms did that – and then he slapped himself. Alex and Will could be badly hurt and he was worried about Daddy’s _knee?_

Through the open door, he saw King bend down and lift something – somebody from the ground, then turn around to face him. Selim’s heart stopped beating for a moment as King approached. _It was Will._ But Will’s golden hair was drenched in red – so were his t-shirt, and his shorts, and his skin, and –

            There was something wrong with him. It took Selim a moment to realize what it was, but he nearly threw up when it finally made sense why William was so much smaller than usual.

            _His arm and leg was gone._

“What…” He gulped. “What happened?” The raw, dripping flesh that was crying onto Daddy’s arms attracted his eyes like a grotesque carnival – too obscene to be quite real.

            “I don’t know.” King began to make his way up the hill, his pace urgent but careful.

            “Wait! Where’s Alex?”

            King gave his son a sad, regretful look. Selim didn’t understand. He looked down at Will’s hand – the one that remained – and what it was holding. A doll – a little wooden doll, with ball joints, glass eyes and a mat of black yarn for hair – dangled limply from his fingers, in danger of falling.

            It was Alex’s doll, and it was just as coated in blood as Will’s skin.

            “No,” he breathed, shaking his head.

            King said nothing more, striding up the hill with his precious burden.

            “No,” Selim said again. “No, no, no.”

            Alex was just…Alex was somewhere, Dad just couldn’t find him.

            Selim flung open the door and entered the room. The third scream of the Elric house that night came from him, as he took in the scene, and everything it meant.

            The floorboards were slick with blood – how had this all come from Will? – but not enough to completely conceal the complex, beautiful circle drawn in chalk in the middle of the room. And in the middle of the bone-white circle was…a _monster._

The monster’s hair was limp and brown – its fingers delicate, if overlong and skeletal.

            “T-Trisha?”

            The monster said nothing, blank, sightless eyes accusing and white.

            Selim turned and fled, unaware of the frightened tears that streamed from his eyes, or how his heart jackhammered against his ribs. All he knew was Alex, and the sudden, dreadful void that had suddenly grown another person wider.


	2. Daylight Dancer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by AFI.
> 
> TW: blood/injury, death, medical, food, trauma reaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5/14/2016: I finally caved! I'm editing a bunch of these earlier chapters, and while content-wise not a lot is changing, I'm making some things clearer from the get-go, and updating the writing so that this work isn't quite so obviously written over the course of four years. (Blimey.) If you're a new reader – don't worry! You don't have to pay any attention to this bit.
> 
> I'm also going to add chapter notes to the bottom of these, just to clear things up on things where I'm trying to be subtle or clever but not necessarily trying to preserve mystery.
> 
> This edited chapter was betaed by Cockatoo from Tumblr!
> 
> Lyrics by Lacuna Coil.

 

~2~

_Answer me, it can't be so hard_

_Cry to relieve what's in your heart_

_-_ _**Daylight Dancer** _

 

Selim had always found William a little intimidating, boisterous, sometimes even cruel. He loved him, of course – questioning that was like questioning why the sun rose, or why the rain fell. Still, he'd always been more comfortable around Alex, even with all the strange and peculiar things he did.

He'd never seen Will sleeping before, though. Asleep, Will's face wasn't quite so sharp, and there were no mocking words waiting on his tongue this time. Not that Selim _would_ have minded a barb or two. Even a half-hearted curse. _Anything._

Timidly, still kind of expecting to be bitten, he reached out and brushed a few stray blond strands away from Will's pale face. Dad said he'd lost a lot of blood – Selim didn't even _want_ to think about how much he'd bled before they got down there.

_What if he dies?_

He didn't want to think about, he wasn't going to think about anything except what was going to happen when Will woke up, what was Selim going to tell him, they didn't even have a _body -_

Three days of this. Three days of sitting by Will's side, waiting for something to happen, refilling his IV bag, cleaning and changing the bandages around the horrific stumps where his arm and leg had been torn away -

_-torn? What could do that? What did they do? -_

He'd been reading to him, too. Fairy tales, mostly, and just whatever he could think of.

And Alex…Selim felt the lump in his throat rise again, and he forced it back down. It had been two years without Mum and he hadn’t cried once. He _wouldn’t_ cry. Crying was a sign of weakness.

But ten-year-olds weren't supposed to -

Selim shivered involuntarily, trying even harder to push away the memories of the bloodsoaked floorboards and the _thing._ Of course, that just made them even more vivid.

He slammed his hands over his eyes, whimpering in fright as he tried to ignore the thoughts racing through his head. _It was a monster and it tore Will apart and it devoured Alex and they're gone they're gone they're gone and it's still out there -_

Something tugged on his pants leg, and he shrieked, falling out of his chair and shielding his face with his hands. “Don't eat me!”

“...That wasn't the reaction I was hoping for,” came the familiar voice, although smaller and a little more... _hollow_ than before.

Selim parted his fingers. “A-” He couldn't even voice the name. He'd sound so _stupid -_

“Don't I even get a 'thank god you're alive'?”

“ _Alex!_ ” He pulled his hands from his face, blinking in confusion. Alex wasn't there. Instead, the doll that Will had been holding like a talisman for three days was leaning against his bare foot. “...What?”

The doll hung its head. “ _Hello,_ ” it said, enunciating clearly.

Selim's mind went completely blank. “H-hi,” he stuttered out. He couldn't even figure out whether or not to be relieved. “Alex?” he said again. He had to be sure.

“In the... er, well. Wood, I guess.” Well, doll or not, Alex was sounding strangely chipper for somebody who'd been missing for three days.

“You’re not dead!”

“Nope, or at least I hope not. If I am, that means heaven is staring at your ugly mug.”

Selim found himself gritting his teeth. “I thought you were dead for _three days!_ ” And suddenly, despite all his promises and his resolve, tears started pouring down his face, and he sniffled, still trying to be brave. “I-I didn't even know you were _home_ yet and then you – you -”

He picked up the doll, holding Alex delicately in one hand and wiping desperately at his face with the other. “I'm glad you're okay,” he whispered.

“I – think I am?” Alex quickly changed the subject. “What about Will? The last thing I remember is activating the circle.”

“So it _was_ alchemy!” Selim started to get angry, not for the first time. “This was all some _stupid_ experiment or something, wasn't it -”

“We were trying to bring her back,” Alex murmured, almost too quietly to hear. “Just please tell me – _please_ tell me Will's okay.”

Selim didn't know how to respond. Instead, he lifted his hand and let Alex crawl onto the bed, let him take it in.

Alex sat on Will's chest, rising and falling with every shallow breath his brother took. He was quiet for so long that Selim began to wonder if he _had_ been hallucinating everything, but the mouthless voice came again after a long while, breaking the silence with a somber whisper. “We didn't get anything back. Did we?”

The monster with the broken neck and the long brown hair. “It...wasn't human.” _It wasn't Trisha._ Even though he'd recognized the face, it hadn't been her.

“So... nothing. And this is what we paid.” Selim could hear Alex's voice shake with – was it sorrow, or anger? Usually he could read his friend's body to know the difference. But then Alex kept talking. “And _nothing?_ _Nothing_ in return?” This time, Selim could hear the fury in his voice. “What happened to equivalent exchange?”

The words he spoke meant nothing to Selim. They were alchemy terms, as strange to him as equal force, pulleys, gears and metal strengths were to them.

Alex looked up at him, carved face still managing to be painfully, hopelessly lost. “What…what do we do now, Selim?”

Selim wished he had an answer. He wished he could say something to comfort Alex, for all that his mind was still reeling from the sheer _impossibility_ of the friend he’d begun to mourn returning in such a form. He still didn't even know how it was possible. “I don't know,” he whispered.

* * *

Will woke up three times in the next week. The first, only King was there for – it lasted about thirty seconds before he lost consciousness. He hadn’t noticed what was wrong – he'd only looked up with his watery eyes, asked if Alex was okay, and then disappeared again.

The second time was with both Selim and Alex. He blinked his eyes open, and found Alex perched on his chest. Slowly, voice cracking from days of disuse and still hoarse from screaming, he explained that this had been the _only_ way to save him, that he'd _tried -_

And halfway through his sentence, when he tried to move his arm, when he noticed the empty, flat part of the sheets, he went silent. They tried to speak to him for an hour before they left, Selim carrying Alex away after it became clear that it wasn't going to work. For all that his eyes were open, staring off into the distance from the dirty window, he wasn't there.

The third time, King refused to let him go back to sleep and poured lukewarm soup down his throat. “You’ve got to eat. Get some strength back. You lost a lot of blood, son, and you need to get your iron levels back up.”

Will swallowed the soup hungrily, but only two of the words made it through to his still-feverish brain. _Iron. Blood._

“We tried to be gods,” he croaked, still only half-conscious. “We weren't supposed to _fail._ ”

“Everybody fails sometimes.” King tried to give him some more, but Will turned his head away.

* * *

Selim caught Alex staring through the glass, for the second time that day, and sat down in the chair by the windowsill. “You want to go outside?”

“You sure it's a good idea?” Alex murmured. He still didn't know if this was permanent, or if Will had any way to turn it back. He certainly hoped so. He had his own plans for what he was going to look like, what he was going to change about himself, and getting trapped inside the dolly that some ancient neighbour had given him when he was a newborn hadn't been part of that plan. _She thought I was a girl,_ he remembered, although at the point _everybody_ had thought he was a girl, him included, so he couldn't really hold it against her.*

Still, he found himself staring at the reflection in the glass, distracted from the view. “It looks beautiful out,” he added.

“Come on, I'll take you. I'll make sure a cat doesn’t eat you or something.”

Alex turned around and smacked Selim on the arm with his nub of a hand. “Oh sure, laugh. I won’t pull any punches next time _you’re_ the size of a lamp.” Leaping down from the windowsill, Alex started making his way towards the door, still figuring out how to walk with his new legs. They didn’t quite joint properly – although, he reflected, he was lucky they had joints at all. It could have been worse. He could have been a corn-husk doll, fated to rot away with the next heat.

It was actually kind of funny – he hadn't been particularly happy with the body he's gotten before, but this hadn't exactly been what he wanted. Still, you made the best of what you got, right? It sounded a little stiff even to him but he figured if he said it enough, it'd sound true.

Selim opened the door before he could struggle to reach the doorknob, and Alex stepped outside for the first time in his new body.

And it was all wrong.

He couldn’t smell the wind – he _knew_ it would smell of bluebells and willow and cow manure, just like it always had, but _it didn’t._

The grass was turning into golden hay, but he couldn’t feel it scratch his feet.

He tried to take another step forward, and fell – his body was _wrong. Wrong wrong wrong._

He tried to scream again, and he heard it, but it didn’t rip from his throat or even out of his closed, painted-on mouth. It just hung in the air, an invisible echo -

Now he was being picked up – was that Selim’s hand? It was too _big,_ so _wrong –_

“I’m so sorry,” Selim murmured. Alex bit back his response, _be careful what you wish for. It might come true._

He'd wanted his mother – he'd wanted a new body -

-well, he'd gotten both.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> *There's unfortunately no smoother way to introduce it, but I wanted it to pop up earlier than it eventually did – Alex is a transgender man, and has identified as such for a few years by this time. Trans rights in this time period were in their absolute infancy; for example, the term 'transgender' didn't yet exist, so the word itself will never appear in story.


	3. Escapist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Nightwish.
> 
> Trigger warning: body horror (I won't tag this for every chapter I promise), references to violence, blood, death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5/14/2016: Most of the edits in this chapter are to make characters blend better with their later characterizations, but Diana's thoughts re: Hohenheim are important plot wise, especially since up until this edit I don't think I'd revealed any of it.
> 
> TW: implied/perceived abuse, transphobia/degendering (accidental), trauma reaction
> 
> The lyrics are by Nightwish.

 

~3~

_Virgin snow beneath my feet_

_Painting the world in white_

_I tread the way_

_and lose myself into a tale._

_**-The Escapist** _

 

Alex adjusted, as he always did. He’d adjusted when Dad left, adapted to having a single parent who sometimes disappeared into her room for long stretches of time. He’d adjusted when Mom had died (although apparently not well enough) and being left under Will’s not-so-gentle care. He cared about Alex, but he was hardly parent material, especially not at the tender age of five. He’d adjusted to Izumi’s way of teaching.

So he would adapt to this new body, the same as usual.

It was troublesome, of course. Suddenly his weight was in completely different places, and his movement seemed to be ruled by imaginary ley-lines radiating from the seal in the center of his forehead instead of muscles and tendons. It was far harder to predict when he would fall, when he would balance.

There were benefits. He couldn’t feel any pain – where in a flesh body, a misaimed kick or loss of balance could land him with a broken leg or a nasty gash, in this wooden mannequin, either of those didn’t merit anything more than a quick circle and a flash of light. As long as both of his arms were intact, it was fine.

And there was one more thing Alex always did; he _marvelled._ He couldn’t feel – no, stop thinking about that, because if he let himself think about it too much he began to crack again – but the world was _so much bigger._ The long grass which before had come to his waist – now it towered above him, each stalk the height of a young tree. Den was a monstrous figure, and every time she gambolled around it was like an earthquake.

He was walking slowly around the base of a tree, still in sight of the Bradley house and tracing the whorls in the bark, when he heard voices. He cocked his head (forgetting for a moment that it didn't make all that much difference) but he didn't recognize them.

Before he could do anything, however, or even trace where the voices were coming from, he was being hoisted into the air, the grass suddenly very, _very_ far below him.

He looked up with trepidation – into a pair of black sunglasses, reflecting his own glass-eyed face back at him.

* * *

Jareth Valjean* hated trains. It wasn’t the hard wooden seats he had a problem with, or the fact that he couldn’t smoke (or drink, or indulge in any of his other pleasures), or even that they were far too noisy for him to sleep in.

It was the mind-numbing _boredom._

Worse than that, the fact that his usual travelling companion was never even the slightest bit affected. He watched bitterly as she turned the page of her book with a white-gloved hand, calm and dignified and sitting just as straight as she had at the beginning of their journey.

Almost twenty-four hours ago.

As if she could read his thoughts, and Jareth rather suspected that she could, Diana looked up from the novel with a curious glance. “Lieutenant, while I'm almost certain there's no rules on the books about scowling at a superior officer, I'm inclined to call it insubordination anyway. Is something bothering you?” She smirked as she said it, and he wanted to slap it off her face. _Brat._

“How can you be _reading?_ ”

“By opening my book and turning the page. If you need further instructions, I'm afraid you're beyond my help.”

He rolled his eyes and sat up, wincing as he stretched his sore back. “What's the _matter_ with you, Di? How are you not going nuts?”

Diana closed the book, marking her spot with a finger, and held it up. “By _reading_ , Lieutenant, which is a wonderful pastime and really, something you should try.”

“I can't sit still for any longer!” he whined. “And there's no _food_ either, which should be a capital crime – hold on, what the hell?” He grabbed for the book, but Diana held it just out of his grip. “Is that – what the hell _is_ that?”

“Romantic literature,” she said as primly as she could, although she had the grace to fake at least a _little_ bit of a blush.

He snorted. “Smut. You’re reading _smut._ ”

“ _Romantic literature,_ Lieutenant,” she insisted, sly smile still on her face.

He rolled his eyes, lying back down and flinging his arm over his eyes. “Stop calling me Lieutenant, Di, there’s no-one else here.”

“We’re on official business.” She opened her book again. “And it annoys you.”

“Don't give me that official business bullshit. You're reading _smut._ ”

Finally, her smirk gave way to a full-out grin, which dissolved into laughter. “I’ll let you borrow it when I’m done.”

He flopped back on the hard train bench with a grumble. “Screw you.”

* * *

 

He tipped down his dark glasses, eyebrow rising as he tried to make sense of what it was he had dangling from his fingers. “...Er. Colonel?”

Diana Solaris** lowered the document she'd been perusing with an increasingly-confused expression (the trouble with small towns was that the locals' directions only made sense if you _lived_ there) and eyed him cautiously. “What is it?” She glanced down to the doll in his hands. “A child's toy. What's so special about that? There's plenty of families here.”

“Didn't you -” Valjean looked back at the doll. “Oh, fuck. I'm not crazy, damn it!” He let loose a curse, eyeing the doll carefully -

-who proceeded to clap its hands to where its ears should be. “That was _filthy!_ ”

Solaris nearly dropped the map. “You're _joking._ ” She grabbed the doll from her lieutenant, staring closely. “What _is_ this?”

“See its forehead?” Valjean pointed to the seal on the doll's forehead. “I'd wager that's blood.”

“A _blood-seal?_ ” Solaris couldn't quite conceal the excitement in her voice. “That's just a theory, or it's _supposed_ to be -”

“Well, either that's just decoration, or it's more than just a theory.” Valjean grinned at her. “Think we found our alchemist?”

“You already _have,_ ” came the same dry voice, and in unison, they both looked down at the wooden figure clasped in Solaris's hands, who had now crossed its arms in a decidedly irked position. “And I'm not an _it._ I'm a _boy.”_ He paused, then added, _“_ In a temporary jam.”

Valjean cocked his head, and blinked a few times. It somehow hadn't occurred to him yet that if the doll had _spoken,_ and that was actually a blood-seal on his forehead -

“Who did this to you?” Solaris spoke first, the voice that had been so excited and elated suddenly cold.

“I – No one! Well, I mean -”

“Answer me!”

“It wasn't _his_ fault, okay? And I'd really appreciate it if you put me down!”

Solaris didn't seem to hear that last bit, and in an attempt at compromise, Valjean teased the boy from her hands, loosening her iron grip. He didn't know _what_ the boy could feel in this shape, but no matter what, it had to be somewhat intimidating. “My name's Valjean – Lieutenant Valjean. This is the Colonel.”

“Oh, you're soldiers?” he mumbled. “So I have to tell you things?”

“Yes,” Solaris snapped, but finally seemed to relax, even though Valjean could still see the tenseness in her shoulders and fingers. “But we'll help you -”

“He was trying to save my life!” the boy burst out. “Don't be mad at him!” It was already obvious he was young, but this solidified the perception in Valjean's mind – whoever had been sealed in this doll couldn't be more than ten, twelve at a stretch.

“Who is he?” Valjean asked. The same possibilities that had probably occurred to Solaris were now running through his head – experiments on children, children too scared or too young to understand, or fight back – It wouldn't be the first time they'd seen it. _Thank god I'm not an alchemist. I'd probably want to put the sick bastards through the same thing._

“He's my brother,” he whispered. “But he didn't _mean_ to.”

“You've already said that,” Valjean responded distractedly. He hadn't expected that. From the look on her face, neither had Solaris. “What's your name?”

“Alex.”

“I see.” Solaris's voice was clipped, both short words bitten off before they’d been quite completed. “And your brother is…?”

“Will.” Alex sounded rather defeated now.

“I’ll need a family name, too.”

Valjean watched Solaris carefully. He hated it when she got like this, cold and sharp and trying so, so hard to be a soldier like she was supposed to be. It was only a matter of time before she went reckless and did something incredibly, _astoundingly_ stupid.

“E-Elric.”

...Now _that_ he _really_ hadn't been expecting.

“Where is your brother now?” asked Solaris, voice still demanding and lofty. Valjean knew better than to take _that_ at face value.

Alex pointed up the hill. “Up there. But I – I don't think he -”

“We'll see.” She strode up the hill, and Valjean watched her uneasily, noting that her hand was already halfway out of her pocket.

 _She's probably not wrong._ They'd come looking for an alchemist, or at least a lead on one, and stumbled into a mystery instead. He followed her up the hill, Alex resting in his grip, and his other hand reaching down to caress the grip of his gun.

* * *

The sun was so bright in his eyes, even reflected off the white of his newspaper, that it took King a while to notice the two figures coming up the path of the hill, the buttons and knobs of their blue uniforms catching the light.

He closed the newspaper with a frown. Ever since the war had ended, soldiers were a rare sight in Rizenbul – a few here and there had helped with rebuilding, and then disappeared. _I don't get the feeling that they're here to drag an old man out of retirement – but this isn't a social visit either._ They were walking too purposefully for that.

King gripped the porch banister, hauling himself to his feet and reaching for his cane. The gears in his knee groaned and clicked – he'd probably need another checkup soon. Still, it worked pretty well for a type of automail that wasn't even supposed to exist yet. _That son of mine really is something –_ A bitter thought came to mind, and he rubbed his thumb over the head of his cane, the sword hiding inside ready to use if he needed to. _If they're here for him -_

The first of the two soldiers reached the top of the hill, and without even a moment to catch her breath, strode up the porch steps. There wasn't a hair out of place, the bun at the base of her neck tight and regulated, but her eyes were blazing. “I'm here to speak with William Elric.”

He straightened up, feeling his knee click into place. “Stand _down,_ girl. Has nobody taught you to respect your elders? I won't be ordered around in my own home. I retired for a reason.”

Her fist tightened at her side, and he noticed the silver chain hanging from her belt. “Lieutenant-Colonel Diana Solaris. I'm here on military business.”

“Major King Bradley. Retired.” He saluted her. “Now, tell me what this is about.”

She returned the salute, and he could see the barest hint of a flush on her cheeks. So she knew who he was. He could make that work for him. Most of the time, he didn't like thinking about the role he'd played in the war, especially with how it had all ended, but there were times when a good reputation with the military became very convenient. “Sir, I don't mean any offense. I'm investigating some curious events.”

His eye flickered to her companion and the doll clutched in his hand. “You know, I'd be for more convinced that you were here in good faith if you were to release my son's friend. Alex is perfectly capable of getting around on his own.”

“That's what _I_ tried to tell them!” Alex burst out.

“Valjean, put it down,” she ordered.

“Him.”

“Pardon?” She blinked in surprise.

“I won't have you disrespecting Alex. Conduct your official business as you like – I assume Alex is why you're up here in the first place – but these boys have been through quite enough.”

“I didn't _want_ to tell them anything,” Alex murmured. “I'm sorry I got caught.”

King smiled at him. “It's quite alright. These things happen, and you didn't do anything wrong.”

“But now they're mad at Will.”

King drew his gaze back up to meet the Colonel's. “Are you, now?”

“All I want is to talk to him and figure this out.” She crossed her arms. “I'm well within my rights. Blood-seals aren't supposed to be functional alchemy, let alone used on- on _children._ ”

King didn't have a good answer to that. She wasn't wrong. “Very well. Will's inside. He can give you the full story – which is all well and good, since I don't know it. But I won't have you harassing him. These boys are under my protection. Are we clear?”

There was the barest hint of a smile on Solaris's face, although it didn't reach her eyes. “Transparently.”

* * *

Solaris wasn't sure what she was expecting. She'd received the scrawled epithet from William Elric several years ago now, and she hadn't thought much of it – he'd been seeking Hohenheim, and she'd only met the famous alchemist once, long before she'd graduated the academy. It had been a shock to find her old name scribbled in a child's hand, and she'd hidden it away, kept it to herself – but the man who'd known her by that name, who'd sat by her on a long, lonely, cold night almost ten years ago, had never resurfaced.

And then, all of a sudden, the military was looking for him again. She'd pulled out the letter, curling at the edges, and taken Valjean with her to Rizenbul -

\- to find herself staring down at a small figure, curled up in a bed by the window, eyes closed but breathing still ragged.

“He's – he's a _child -_ ” she gasped out, and the image she'd constructed – of some man hunched over records of illegal experiments – fell apart. “This is William? Son of Hohenheim?”

“I was wondering what brought you out here in the first place,” replied King coldly. “Hohenheim's long gone. These are his children.”

“The records -” She swallowed. “The records say he's thirty-one.” _Thirty-one would make sense. I met his father a decade ago and he was in his forties._ “

“Then the records are wrong. Will's eleven. Alex is ten.” King pulled up Will's blanket. “And I won't have you hauling either of them away. The military has no business here.”

“Harsh words from you, Major.” _Eleven. He's eleven years old._

King's brow furrowed. He tapped his cane against his knee with a metallic clang. “This was my reward for serving my country, Colonel. My wife was murdered by a State Alchemist. Forgive me for not accepting your investigation into two children with more grace.”

She pursed her lips. “And Hohenheim?”

“Like I said, long gone.”

While they were talked, Valjean had bent over the bed, looking Will up and down. “Major,” he asked suddenly, voice low so he wouldn't wake the sleeping boy. “What happened?”

“What do you mean -?” And then she saw what he'd seen – the flatness of the blankets, the bandages looping up over the boy's shoulder. She reached forward, morbid curiosity taking over, and folded over the edge of the sheet.

His right arm was gone.

Valjean cursed quietly under his breath, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. Solaris's stomach turned. “What _happened?_ ” she asked, echoing Valjean's question.

“I don't see how it's any of your business,” King snapped, his temper clearly fraying. “He's useless to you, and his father isn't here. So I suggest you move _on -_ ”

“No.” The word came quietly but sharply, cutting through the conversation and silencing them all where they stood. Solaris looked down, meeting a pair of blazing gold eyes. _Definitely his son,_ came the thought. “I'll tell you what happened.”

Solaris backed off as Will struggled into an upright position, the pain only flickering briefly over his face. “Or, how about this?” There was a sourness to his voice. In a twist of irony, his voice certainly sounded as old as he was supposed to be. “Go down to the house at the base of the hill. What you're looking for- it's down there.” He was breathing hard. Even sitting up had drained him.

“What is it?”

“I told you, go and look. And if you still want to know, come back.” He looked away, and Solaris found herself breathing easier once that sharp gaze was off her. “Or you can leave. Forget you saw anything. Forget you heard anything.” She could see the corners of his mouth turn at that. “Forget about me.”

She could feel Valjean shifting uncomfortably at his side. She wasn't going to be cowed that easily. “I'll be back.”

His fingers wrapped around the stump of his arm, and a wave of tension ran down his exposed back. “Yeah. Sure.” Then, quietly enough that she wasn't sure she'd been supposed to hear, wryly but with no real humour, he added, “That's what they all say.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Jareth Valjean is named after the Goblin King in Labyrinth, and his last name is from Les Miserables's Jean Valjean. His last name is pronounced 'Val-john'
> 
>  
> 
> **Diana Solaris's first name is taken from Wonder Woman, since physically there's a decent amount of resemblance between Lust and Wonder Woman. Her last name is taken from the manga/Brotherhood, from the alias she takes on when dating Havoc.


	4. Bedshaped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original chapter betaed by the lovely Ashling Ivy!
> 
> Lyrics by Keane.
> 
> TW for depression, suicidal ideation, guns, manipulation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anybody still lost:
> 
> William Elric: Envy  
> Alex Elric: Wrath 2003  
> Selim Bradley: Pride BH  
> King Bradley: Pride 2003/Wrath BH  
> Diana Solaris: Lust  
> Jareth Valjean: Greed

~4~

_You'll follow me back_

_With the sun in your eyes_

_And on your own_

_**-Bedshaped** _

 

Somehow, Will wasn't surprised when she came back into the room, breathing hard and closing the door quietly behind her. He thought he would be, but it seemed perfectly natural.

“You foolish, foolish, _foolish_ boy,” the Colonel said quietly, her hair hanging loose around her face. It had come undone from her bun somewhere along the way. Will wasn't sure she'd noticed. “What were you thinking?”

Will turned his face away, staring out the window. He could see their house from here – just the roof and the peak of the window, peering over the curve of the hill – but it was enough. And every time he looked, he'd remember what was in the basement, the stained floor, the portal to hell that had opened up beneath his feet -

“Tell me!” She slammed her hands on the wood at the foot of the bed. He continued to ignore her. Let her yell all she wanted. It wouldn't change anything that happened. What was the point of lecturing him _now?_ “What _was_ that?”

“What did it look like?” he replied in a monotone voice, hands – _hand –_ lying in his lap. Alex had started screaming almost the second the light had gone wrong, he remembered that. _And you told him to shut up at first, do you remember that too? You thought he was just afraid, remember that?_

“Human transmutation.”

He'd thought it would make him feel better to hear her say it. It didn't do a damn thing. “There's your answer, then. Happy now?” he muttered.

“Why?” she whispered.

Will dragged his eyes away from the roof of his house – _remember telling him to shut up Will, remember telling him to shut up when his arms were being torn away because you wouldn't turn around to look at him –_ and stared at her. She almost looked concerned, and he almost believed it. “What do you want to hear?” he replied smoothly, and forced a smile onto his face.

“Don't pull that on me,” she snapped.

The smile vanished, replaced with a snarl. “Then you can fuck right off. I don't know what you have to gain from torturing me.”

She was silent after that, chewing on her lip. Will snorted, turning his head back to the window -

A gloved hand appeared under his chin, yanking his face away from the window, and suddenly her face was too close to his. She smelt of smoke and something not-quite-right underneath it. His stomach dropped. “What did you do with it?” _It._

“I burned it.”

Will tried not to feel relieved at that. _I won't have to look at her again._ Even so ,he could feel the sadness welling up in him, the grief he'd been trying so long to suppress. He didn't have anything left to push it down with – no desperate hopes, no pipe dreams or far-flung wishes. She was dead.

“William,” the Colonel said quietly. “Tell me what happened. Take me through it.”

“Haven't I told you enough?”

“I want to know what happened to your brother.”

“I'd think it'd be pretty obvious. We paid the toll. Equivalent exchange.” He lifted the bare stump he had left. “One leg and one body for -” He couldn't figure out which word to use, so he left it. Besides, she – it – was nothing but charcoal now.

_Stop mourning it._

_Her._

_It._

_What you made wasn't alive. It was doomed from the start._

“And my arm to pull Alex's soul back and give him anything I could.”

“A doll.” The Colonel seemed to be following. “Where'd you get the idea for a blood-seal?”

“I saw it somewhere. I don't know. It was all I had.” He didn't know why he was answering her. It didn't _matter._ Nothing _mattered –_ the only thing that had mattered for the last half of his life had _failed._

_-and what should have mattered most to you, he's outside in a body that doesn't belong to him and you've failed him again, over and over again -_

“Interesting,” was all she said. She released his chin and sat down on the stool Selim had left behind, crossing her arms.

“You're still here,” he snapped. “Why?”

“You've never been ordinary, have you?” she replied in lieu of a real answer, lifting one gloved hand and leaning her cheek on it with a a curious stare. “I thought I started picking up alchemy young but you – _you're_ something else again.”

Will refused the obvious invitation to ask a question. He didn't _care_ how old she'd been. She was just some uppity stranger pushing her nose into her business.

“How long have you been sitting here moping?”

“ _Moping?_ ” he echoed incredulously. “You -”

“Probably not long. You haven't even started getting automail surgery yet.”

He had the sudden urge, from underneath the blanket of bitterness that had muffled everything else, to get up and wipe that stupid smirk off her face. He thought perhaps _that_ was what made this all so _fucking_ unbearable – the sense that he was being laughed at, or examined, or both. “Who says I'm getting any?” he snapped.

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow in a way that was so obviously calculated he wanted to reach out and tear it off. “So you plan to lie here for the rest of your life. Is that your plan?”

“Life? We might as well be dead,” he mumbled. _Alex. God. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry._

“Wishing you were dead and actually being dead are very different things, especially after a transmutation that size. Don't you understand?” There was a note of frustration in her voice. “You _survived._ ”

“For what?”

The Colonel smiled – properly this time, lips curving with what resembled a genuine sparkle in her eyes as she pulled the silver chain from her pocket. There was a watch at the end, and she raised it to eye-level, letting it swing to catch the light. “I'm giving you an option, William. You broke the taboo, and you lived. As far as I'm concerned, surviving a backlash like that, let alone setting it into motion, gives you an edge for the State Alchemist exam.”

The words 'State Alchemist' processed, and he yanked his gaze away from the hypnotic swing of the silver watch with a snort. “Hell no.”

“Excuse me?” She looked almost surprised, but everything about her was artificial. She didn't belong in here with all his open wounds.

“Sorry, was that not clear enough for you?” Will sneered, lip rising to bare his teeth. “ _Fuck. No._ ”

The Colonel slid the watch back into her pocket. “Is that your final answer?” The way she said it – the way her eyes were fixed on his, never letting him go -

He bit his lip until he felt drops of blood squeezing onto his tongue. He could see the days stretch out in front of him, never-ending and empty and pointless, on and on and on until he finally got his hand onto a scalpel when Selim wasn't watching -

_Alex._

By the time he'd come back to reality, the Colonel was getting up from her seat, heading for the door.

“Wait,” he mumbled.

She paused. “Yes?” Will could _hear_ the smug tone of it, and hated himself for the rest.

“Why?” he asked. “Why are -” He swallowed, unsure how to word the thought rising like a bubble in his mind.

The Colonel turned, hands sliding into her pockets and her silky voice low and promising. “What if I told you there just might be a way to fix things?”

* * *

Jareth had never considered himself a patient man, so waiting on the porch with the strange little family sitting across from him wasn't his ideal way of passing the time. He'd tried to strike up conversation, and the old Major seemed willing enough to do small talk, but the icy glares from the Major's son were enough to put him off his tea. Figuratively – he hadn't even been _offered_ tea.

He was about to try once more to start up conversation, when the door between them opened, and the Colonel strode out, a self-satisfied smirk dancing around her lips. Jareth held his breath, waiting to hear what had gone wrong.

“Let's go, Lieutenant.”

He got to his feet, not quite ready to stop being nervous. “Yes, Colonel.” He saluted the Major, nodded at the boy and the doll on his knee, then followed after her.

He waited until they were halfway down the hill to ask. “What happened?”

“Nothing _happened,_ Lieutenant. We had a lovely conversation.” She was doing the _voice_ again. The 'I'm so innocent, no one could ever accuse me of anything' voice. Bloody _hell._

Jareth grabbed her shoulder and roughly turned her towards him. “What did you _do?_ ”

“I didn't do anything,” she replied a little peevishly, then flashed him a dazzling grin. “We'll just have some visitors in a few years, that's all.”

“Visitors?”

“You know. State Alchemist potentials.”

“State Alch – You're _joking._ ” Jareth was seized with the sudden urge to thwack something – or some _one –_ with the butt of his gun. “Are you _crazy?”_

“Maybe, but you saw the boy. He won't make it a year without something.” There was a wistful note in her voice at that, and Jareth found himself simmering down – somewhat. He couldn't quite make himself believe that Diana had done this out of the kindness of her heart, but it would do for now.

“It's not going to be easy. You know that, right?”

“Of course not. Nothing worthwhile ever is.” Her eyes flickered down to his gun and the hand still resting on it, and she smiled slightly. “I think you can relax now, Lieutenant. Don't worry. I'll protect you.”

* * *

It was the strangest feeling. He'd been staring out of the window for... days? Weeks? He'd lost track of time somewhere. Maybe it wasn't that long. Somewhere in there, he'd also stopped actually _looking._

His old house, down the hill. Leading down, past and beyond it, the gravel pathway, pieces of quartz glinting among the scattered stones... It was still indented with the marks of the heavy military boots, their footprints leading down past the curve of the hill. A heavy plume of smoke marked where the train waited like a slumbering beast.

 _Sleeping. I've been sleeping._ He'd been _on_ that train before.

Somewhere, far beyond the hill, far beyond the view from his window, even if he had to go to the ends of the earth, there was a way to make things right.

“Will?”

He turned his head away from the window, not quite raising his eyes to look at Selim and Alex. Then, he forced himself to, taking in once more the mistake he'd made, the curse he'd laid on his brother for a childish dream. _This is what you've done._

_Time to fix it._

“Get me out of this bed,” he rasped, and suddenly, he could feel laughter bubbling up inside of him, nervous and maniacal and desperate and relieved all at once. “Get me into a wheelchair, get me some ports and make me some automail.”

There was hope.

There was a future, there was a chance, there was _hope,_ and he was going to grab it with both damn hands.

 


	5. Running Up That Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edited 2016-07-31.
> 
> Whew! I think out of all the chapters so far, this one was the most completely rewritten. I was never super happy with it when I first wrote it, and now I have a much better relationship with the characters.
> 
> Even if you’ve read the old chapter, I HIGHLY recommend rereading this one. Enough key stuff has been changed that I think it’s important.
> 
> TW: surgery/medical, blood, drugs
> 
> Song is originally by Kate Bush, but both Placebo and Within Temptation have excellent covers.

~5~

 _It doesn't hurt me._  
Do you want to feel how it feels?  
Do you want to know that it doesn't hurt me?  
Do you want to hear about the deal that I'm making?

_  
**-Running Up That Hill**_

 

         Rizenbul had always had an automail mechanic. It was just one of those facts of life, a fact that had been established fifty years ago when Richard Faber began to apply his experience as a blacksmith to the newfangled discipline of artificial limbs. The times had changed, but Faber Automail hadn’t – until the last of the Faber children, a young woman with a round face and eyes the smoky green of copper patina, took up the mantle. Nobody had ever expected it to be a girl, in the end – and of course, nobody would marry a _female_ mechanic. So that was the end of the Fabers, then.

         Except, of course, someone did. Minna Faber went to Central to bring her automail to the military base, and she came back with a handsome young soldier dogging her footsteps, taking in every little thing he could about automail. The inevitable happened, and they were wed – and with that, Faber Automail became Bradley Automail, even though she was _indisputably_ in charge.

 _And they lived happily ever after._ Selim kept reciting the story to himself, shivering as the screams echoed through the house again. This was the first time he’d been in the house when a port was being installed. Usually he left – but there’d been no time. Lysander had been caught under a tractor, and this surgery was just as much about stemming the bleeding as it was installing the port that would return his ability to walk. _Hopefully._

        There was a knock at the door, and he started, pulling his knees even more closely to his chest. He’d just turned eight, so he was too old to be afraid of the dark, but he figured he maybe, _maybe_ just had a right.

       “Selim, dear, it’s your mother.”

       “Y-yeah?” He tried to sound brave. “Is everything okay?”

        The door creaked open, and the moment Selim saw her face, he relaxed. She wouldn’t be smiling at him like that if something had gone wrong.

        Still – the _sounds_ Lysander was making – He shuddered again.

        Minna slid into the room, closing the door quietly behind her and seating herself on his bed. “It’s scary, isn’t it?”

        He avoided her eyes. “They’re _hurting_ him,” he burst out. “How are we _helping?_ ”

       “Oh, my poor dear.” She opened her arms, and Selim fell into her.“Everything’s alright. The ports are almost in, and that means Lysander can get his new leg.”

        Selim shook his head obstinately. “I don’t _understand._ You never told me you _hurt_ people.”

       “Sometimes you have to hurt someone to help them,” she murmured. There was a sadness in her voice at that. “Healing isn’t gentle. Sometimes it’s just as painful as the wound itself - but after that, that’s when it’s worth it.”

        Selim turned that around in his head. “So… so it’s like alchemy. Right? Cause Will and Lexie - er, Alex - were always going on about that.”

        She laughed at that. “I _guess_ so.”

        The screams weren’t bothering him as much now. They were still worming into his brain, but at least he understood - or _thought_ he understood.

        He sat back, looking up at her with his hands still buried in the shawl she wore over her shoulders. She never went outside her workshop without it, and it covered the muscles in her shoulders, the grease that invariably made it onto her arms and collarbones. Somehow, it was always spotless. “...Show me.”

        “Show you?”

        “I want to know how it works. Teach me?”

        A curious look crossed Minna’s face at that. “ _Teach_ you?”

        “I want to learn how it works. Show me.”

         Her mouth bloomed into a smile. “Of course, my dear.” With one arm still clasped around his shoulders, she pulled a notebook and pencil from his drawer and began to sketch out the basics. Eight was young - but everybody started somewhere.

* * *

         Two years later, his first lesson echoed in his mind, and he swallowed, trying to calm his nerves as he sorted his tools. _Mum should be here. Mum should be doing this._ It didn’t matter that his father had now been doing this for thirty years - Mum had been the Faber, the genius, the one whose designs Selim was now poring over, trying to understand.

          He was going to be installing a port. _Two_ ports. And the person who would be hurting, instead of a young man old enough to bear the stress of the ports, was _Will._ He wasn’t even a year older than Selim.

          Selim’s stomach roiled, and he sat down suddenly, trying to calm his nerves. It didn’t matter how nauseous he felt. There wasn’t anybody else. Dad _needed_ his help.

_I can do this. I can do this. I can do this._

          He stood up and faced the mirror, pulling the surgical mask up over his face. It was a brilliant white, but he knew that wouldn’t last. The apron next, over a shirt that he knew would be irrevocably stained by the end of the night. The white gloves, reaching up to his elbows.

_I’m too young._

_I’m old enough._

_I might hurt him. I_ will _hurt him._

          He couldn’t hurt Will any worse than he already had been. The weeks of staring out the window, the bare responses - Selim was having a harder and harder time remembering how brightly he’d used to shine. _I want my friend back._

          Selim raised his eyes back to the mirror, and for a moment, he recognized his mother staring out at him from his dark irises. There was no turning back now.

          And besides. He was a Faber, too. 

* * *

          “But _Will -_ ”

           Will grabbed Alex in his hand, squeezing just tightly enough to stop him from wriggling away. “I said _no._ ”

           “But what if something goes wrong?”

           “I don’t know what you think you could do about it. Besides, I’ll be okay. _You_ won’t if you insist on sitting in and watching me get cut up.”

           “I’ll be _fine._ ”

           “You’re ten.”

           “So’s Selim.”

           “Yes, but unlike Selim, you’re _also_ a _wimp_.”

            The door opened, and King peered in, trying unsuccessfully to smother a laugh. “Are you two behaving yourselves?”

            “ _I’m_ behaving,” whined Alex. “Will’s just being a jerk.”

            “Will, be nice.”

            “I’m always nice,” Will replied blandly, dropping Alex unceremoniously on the bedsheets and trying not to smirk at the annoyed squeal he got in return.

            “You’re having _way_ too much fun with this!”

            “Right, like there was ever a time I couldn’t pick you up with one hand.”

             “At least I _have_ two hands!”

             Will rolled his eyes, then casually flicked Alex off the bed. “Anyway.” He raised his eyes to King, trying to ignore the growing unease in the pit of his stomach and putting on the best smile he could manage. “Let’s get this over with.” 

* * *

            Selim slipped through the crack in the door and closed it behind him, his narrow focus and rush of adrenaline both finally starting to fade. The scent of blood still filled his nostrils, and it hit him along with the exhaustion how terrifying it was that he was already used to it.

            Alex glanced up at him from the opposite wall, his new size accentuated by the size of the floorboards and baseboards around him. “Is – is it over?”

            Selim swallowed. He couldn’t help but feel conscious of the fact that both of them knew whose blood it was all over him. _I’m hurting him to help him,_ he chanted to himself. It wasn’t helping as much as he thought it would. Three hours of pulling nerves through the holes of the honeycombed port, capping them with conductive metal and grouping them into sections for the _second_ part of the port…it was tiring, it was stressful, and it was repetitive. His excitement for it had flagged by the second hour, and the entire time, he’d been trying not to look at Will’s face, trying to ignore the tears of pain streaming down his face or the blood dripping from his lip as he slowly bit through it.

            “Almost. He’s asleep now. Dad’s doing the last part, and he doesn’t need to be awake for that part.”

            “What is it?”

            “Bolting the port to the bone.”

            “…Oh.” Alex’s wooden knees were pulled up to his chest, points of articulation struggling with the position. “But he’s on meds now, right? He won’t feel it.”

            “Not right now, no. He’ll be sore when he wakes up, though.” Selim headed to the sink, peeling off the gloves and pulling down his mask. He took a deep breath. “I – I tried to design something with as much fine motor control as I could.” He tried to figure out how to explain what he needed to –

            “It’s his right hand.”

            “Yeah.”

            “It’s okay. He can still draw circles with the other one. He just hasn’t.”

            Selim let himself breathe, guilt weighing him down, even though he couldn’t quite word why. _What do you have to be guilty about?_ asked the rational part of his brain, but he ignored it. “What about you?”

            “Me?” came the overly-innocent response.

            Busted.

            Selim turned around, hands on his hips. “Really?”

            “What?”

            “Isn’t that _dangerous?_ ”

            Alex sounded a little sheepish as he responded. “I’ve only done a _little._ Besides –“ and his voice got a little bolder. “-you should be _proud_ that I figured out how to do circles like this. It’s not like I’ve got thumbs.”

            “I’m not asking. I don’t want to know. I’m not curious.” Selim couldn’t stop himself from smiling, even though the fog of exhaustion.

            “Oh come _on!_ ”

            “…Fine! I submit.” Selim took off his apron and threw it into the wastebin. His shirt followed afterwards, and he grabbed a rag, sitting down next to Alex and mopping the sweat from his forehead. “Show me.” 

            “I have to be really careful. But it goes like this –“

 

* * *

            King examined the hanging bag of morphine, eyepatch laid aside and mask still covering his face. It had been a long surgery – longer than he’d expected. He only hoped he’d done his wife proud.

            He glanced down at Will. Even his drugged sleep was restless, beads of sweat still appearing on his forehead and trickling down his face. King sat down and towelled some of them away, letting the silence expand and fill the room with blessed peace.

            “It’s over,” he murmured, smiling softly. “You were very brave.” Will hadn’t screamed, once. Yelled, maybe, and he’d cursed fit to make a soldier blush, but nothing more.

            He moved the towel, wiping away the tearstains on Will’s cheek. “Your father would be proud of you,” King added. He never would have said it had Will been awake – but it was true, whether the boy he’d ended up considering his own wanted to acknowledge it or not.

            King got to his feet, gently teasing off one of his gloves. Before he could turn away, a hand lashed out and grabbed him by the arm. He looked over his shoulder. Will was half sitting up, eyes filmy from the morphine but blazing with a fire stronger than King had ever seen it.

            “It’s…” Will slurred, mouth struggling to form the words. “It’s my fault. You sh’d – you need to know. It’s my fault. It’s my fault.”

            King sat down, gently unlatching Will’s fingers from his arm and trying not to wince. “Will, hush, you need to sleep.”

            “He di’nt _want_ to. Told him. I didn’t – “ And suddenly there was the barest hitch of a sob underneath the fierce words. “I didn’t know it would _go_ so bad. Didn’t – mean to –“

            “Shhh. Will, shhh. It’s okay.” The fire in his eyes wasn’t passion, or some altered state. It was guilt – guilt in its purest, most devastating form. King had seen it before, in much older eyes. “Sleep. It’s over.”

            “It’ll never be over,” Will mumbled, face flushed and sunken. Then his expression changed. “I – hurt – why do I –“

            “Don’t worry about it.”

            Again the change in expression – the fire dimmed, and something that was almost a smile smoothed out his face, the muscles in his neck relaxing. “Sel’s…outside?”

            “Mmhm. He won’t go far.”

            “Even if he does. It’s okay.” Will’s eyelids were drooping now. “Still – feel him. Worried about me. You should tell him – I’ll be just…” The last word was lost as Will’s eyes finally closed, his earlier restlessness fading.

            King smiled, even as he rubbed his arm. Yes, Will would be fine.

            “I’ll tell him,” he said, although he had a funny feeling that Selim already knew.


	6. Misguided Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edited 03/09/2017
> 
> Lyrics by Paramore.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: some mild violence, reference to emotional abuse/manipulation, references to scars

~6~

_We all learn to make mistakes and run from them, from them_

_with no direction_

_we_ _’_ _ll run from them, run from them_

_with no conviction_

**_-Misguided Ghosts_ **

****

            He dragged his hand slowly over it, feeling every ridge, every bolt, every contour of the metal. The upper arm was like a Russian doll – interlocking shells, one inside the other, curving down from the shoulder and stopping just above the round nuts that steadied the mechanics inside. Down, down, down – the pads of his fingers caught on each level, but they weren’t sharp, filed down to a rounded edge – and it transformed into an elbow joint. The lower arm was two pieces of metal bolted together, grooves carved deep into the top. Down again. He rotated the wrist joint around, feeling how the ball moved in its socket, and touched each of the fingers in turn.

            After a long time, he looked up. “This is my arm?” he asked, almost incredulous.

            “Do you like it?” Selim’s face was hopeful, and Will couldn’t stop himself from grinning at his expression.

            “You made it, huh, Sel?” Will reached over and ran his hand down the leg, trying to imagine wearing it – _owning_ it – it being part of him. “Pretty good – for a ten-year-old.”

            “Sh-shut up!” Still, he looked pleased. “Today’s the earliest we can try connecting it, but if you want to wait –“

            “I want it now.” At King’s wary expression, Will added, “I gotta get started on rehab.”

            Selim nodded, but the older man still looked uneasy. Will sighed. “Look, old man, I’m gonna figure out how to put things right. To do that, I need to become a State Alchemist –“ he didn’t miss the tightening of King’s lips, “–and to do _that,_ I need to learn how to use these, and fast.”

            “Proper rehabilitation takes at least two years.”

            “Yeah, well, I’ll do it in one.” Will struggled to lift both the arm and leg off of his lap. “Hook me up.”

            Selim gave his father a pleading look, and with a sigh, King caved. “Fine. But if you hurt yourself you have to give yourself _proper_ rest.”

            “Yeah, yeah, sure,” William said distractedly, but his eyes were fixed on the limbs that would be his soon. It was like they lived and breathed already.

 

* * *

 

            ...As it turned out, it wasn't  _quite_ that easy.

            “Why aren’t they _working?_ ” 

            “They are! It takes time, and work, and more time, and more work –“

            “And more time, and more work, yeah, I get it,” groused Will, who was now trapped in a staring match with his own right hand. “What I don’t get is _why!"_

            “Your body needs to figure out what the new limb is. The more you send it messages, the more it’ll learn what function the arm is supposed to serve.”

            “Huh. Okay. So I just need to keep trying to move it. All. The. Time.” Will wondered if it was possible to blow a blood vessel just from glaring at an inanimate limb.

            “Just make sure you don’t tire yourself out!”

            Will gave Selim a glare so sharp and so icy that the younger boy suddenly remembered that he’d left some of his tools in a dreadful mess in the other room.

 

* * *

 

             “Check it out, Alex! I’m walking!" 

            Alex clapped, wishing his grin was outwardly apparent. He couldn’t, however, avoid a little dig. “Only took you nine months.”

            Will, who was leaning heavily on Selim, scowled at him where he sat on the stairs. “Look what else I can do.” He flipped him off with his metal hand.

 

* * *

 

             It was another two months before he could walk on his own, but he did it, staring up at the sun unblinkingly and his gold hair in freefall over his shoulders. He was _standing._ Seven months trapped in a bed, dependent on Selim and King and Alex and now he was _standing_ on his own two legs. 

            He turned around, still wobbly. Selim and Alex were watching, the young mechanic just about bursting with pride. _Oh for the love of_ _–_

“Hey Selim!” he called out. “Get over here so I can kick your ass for being such a sop!”

            “Who’re you calling a sop?” he called back, already breaking into a run towards the center of the field. William stretched out his arms as if inviting him for a hug – and then stepped carefully to the side and clotheslined him right in the stomach.

            “OW! Will! You jerk!” Selim collapsed onto the ground, completely winded and glaring up at his attacker. “That was _not nice!_ ”

            “Psch. Don’t be such a wuss.”

            “YOUR ARM IS MADE OF STEEL!”

            Will chuckled, opening and closing his fist. He still couldn’t use the arm for anything heavy – it would be at least another two months of rehabilitation until he was officially ‘recovered’. Still, King had grudgingly admitted that the effort he’d put in was showing.

            That sent a shiver of anticipation up his spine. All the pain and frustration of the last year, _everything_ _–_ it was going to be worth it in the end.

            “Stop jumping on my stomach, Alex, that’s not helping!”

            “But it’s like a trampoline!”

            Will looked up, for a moment expecting to see his brother with his dark-brown hair and matching gold eyes, leaping on Selim’s stomach with his usual cheerful grin and reckless demeanour and limbs flying akimbo. He honestly forgot for a millisecond, a precious flicker –

            -and saw the doll, with Alex’s voice and Alex’s chuckle, in his place. The doll, with black yarn and black eyes instead of the colours of the autumn sun. The doll, stiff and jointed instead of rosy and happy.

            His victory turned to ashes into his mouth, and he spat into the grass in an attempt  to get rid of the bitter taste. _It_ _’_ _s not a victory, it_ _’_ _s a stepping stone. A small one at that._

Will turned and walked away, sticking his hands into his pockets with a dark look.

            “Hey, where are you going?” Selim, apparently recovered, came running up behind him.

            “Got something I need to do. Alex, you coming?”

            After exchanging a glance with Selim, Alex crawled onto his brother’s shoulder. “Sure.”

            “We’ll be back later.”

            The dark-eyed boy looked worried, but sighed. “Alright. We’re having stew, if you’re late you don’t get any.”

            Will merely shrugged, and started taking slow steady steps around the house, down the hill –

            “What are we doing, Brother?”

            He didn’t respond. After a moment, he bent down and untied his shoes, shaking them off and throwing them to the side. He’d had to practice his fine-motor skills countless times, but he much preferred the feel of the grass against his bare feet. Foot.

            “Brother,” said Alex again.

            Will didn’t speak, and he didn’t stop until they’d reached the closest wall of the house that had been their home for so long. Funny, though, when he thought about it, eight years didn’t seem like long at all.

            “What are we doing here?” He still sounded like such a kid, but he’d just turned eleven –

            “We’re burning it down.” Will’s voice sounded hollow even to him, but Alex seemed to take him at his word.

            “What? No! Why? We’re – no! No we’re not!”

            “Yes,” he growled, “we are.”

            “But _why?_ ”

            “I can’t come back, Alex. Once I go to Central and become a State Alchemist, that’s it. No turning back. No second thoughts. No second chances.”

            “That’s _stupid,_ ” complained Alex petulantly, at which point Will ripped the doll from his shoulder and threw him to the ground.

            “You don’t even remember, damn you! You don’t remember the Gate and you don’t remember _Truth_ mocking you and taking…” Will balled his new hand into a fist. “I promised Mom I’d protect you and look what a _fucking_ good job I’m doing. So I’m gonna fix it. I’m gonna fix all of it, no _matter what it takes!_ _”_ He punctuated his last word by swivelling sharply around and driving his fist into the wall. The bricks gave way beneath the metal, although there was a quiet crumpling sound as two of the fingerguards bent.

            He fell to his knees, and the sound of muffled crying came to his ears. “Oh shut _up,_ ” he muttered out of habit.

            “Wh-what if we make things worse? I’m – I – I can _live_ like this, but I…” Alex gulped, a strange sound orphaned of its gesture. “Can’t we just…live?”

            The idea had its temptations. And Will knew, if it had just been him, he would have accepted a life in Rizenbul without any second thoughts. Automail was common these days, and he could accept those consequences without complaint. It was just metal and gears. 

            But Alex had been bullied and cajoled into the transmutation, just like Will bullied and cajoled him into everything else. Will had promised a dying woman that he would take care of his brother, and he’d forced him into a death-defying transmutation that had doomed him to… _this._ (And wasn't he bullying him into this too-? But Will didn't know  _how_ to do anything else.)

He shook his head. “No. I’m gonna put things right.”

            “Then at least let’s go inside.” Alex sniffled again, and Will wondered how much of it was just habit. He didn’t have a _nose_ to sniffle. “I’m not burning everything. I’m _not._ ”

            Will couldn’t help but smile slightly. It wasn’t often Alex actually had the guts to stand up to him. It was a good thing.

            “Well then,” he got to his feet and held his hand to the ground, “we’d better go take a look.” 

* * *

             Will had always had an eye for beauty. Not the way he heard older men talk, about how ‘hot’ girls were or whatever – but simple things, like pictures, clothes, and so on.

            So it wasn’t _really_ bragging to say that he looked really, really good in a skirt.

            He cast a nervous look at the door, and then back at the mirror. He’d only dared to try on Mom’s clothes a few times. The first time he’d been overwhelmed with guilt, and the second time he’d been keenly aware that boys weren’t supposed to want to wear things like this so much - weren't supposed to care. The third (and last) time, Alex had walked in. Neither of them had  _talked_ about it, and Alex wasn't really in a place to comment, what with his situation.

            This time, though, he just didn’t give a damn what anybody else said. The skirt was black and loose, swishing comfortably around his knees, and on top he wore a sleeveless turtleneck that managed to show off the automail while concealing all the scars. He wasn’t about to hide his metal limbs, but the scars themselves were ugly.  _If Alex can be a boy,_ Will thought with a quiet determination,  _I can be whatever I want._

            That thought gave him pause - both the automail, and the rest of it. He wasn't going to hide his automail, even if he'd have to lie about how he lost them in the first place. And he wasn't going to pretend to be normal. What was the point? His limbs were dangerous, they were a warning, and they were his price.

            He stood up as straight as he could, trying to look older, taller, stronger than he felt. Trying to look like something other than a boy in his mother’s clothes. 

* * *

             They ended up taking very little. Alex didn’t need much, and things that had seemed so important – books, stuffed toys, old pictures brought proudly home from school – suddenly seemed insignificant. There’d be books by the thousands in Central’s libraries, especially the state branches; they were too old for toys now; and there was no one to pat them on the head and make them feel proud of finger-paintings.

            The sun was beginning to sink low in the sky by the time they walked out, Will with his one black suitcase and Alex holding onto the back of his neck, and the house seemed filled with ghosts. They crowded at the windows and the doors, crawled up the walls and swung off the eaves of the roof, whispering and beseeching him not to destroy them. Mom reached out her arms, eyes as soft and warm as always before transforming into the abomination they’d created. And unseen, unknown but always there, their father, his absence the biggest ghost of them all.

            Will had known since he’d decided to become a State Alchemist that he was going to burn their home down. It had only truly crystallized a few weeks previously, but still, his hand, creeping into his pocket, found a lighter there. It was the dry season – a single spark would catch well enough.

            He flicked the lighter on and laid it at the doorway, the tiny flame flickering against the wood of the frame. A few moments later, the wood began to darken, turning black. A tongue of fire began to creep upwards.

            He could hear Alex crying again, the strange, disembodied sound sending shivers up his spine. Still, he stood and watched. They’d cut out all the grass around it so that the fire wouldn’t spread. No alchemy. He hadn’t performed a transmutation since that night. He’d have to eventually – no way around it – but he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

            Will turned and began to walk back up the hill. No turning back. Another week or two, and he’d be on the train to Central. To start his new life.

            And to be honest – he couldn’t wait.


	7. Acadia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Marianas Trench.
> 
> Individual Chapter Tags: slight sexism, slight transmisogyny
> 
> [This chapter and the next few correspond with Episode 5 of the 2003 series.]

~7~

_But I remember where it began_

_Left behind me_

_Sometimes it reminds me of when we, we used to belong here_

**_-Acadia_ **

     

           “Keep it oiled and lubricated, and for god’s sake, don’t you _dare_ damage it!”

            Will grabbed the finger that Selim was currently waving in his face. “Stop that, you insufferable little brat, or I’ll crush your finger.”

            “You wouldn’t. Not with _my own automail,_ ” pronounced Selim with no shortage of pride. Will rolled his eyes, aware of Alex laughing against his neck, where he’d perched himself. He was glad to keep his hair loose – it gave Alex something to hide behind. The train station was crowded with all manner of people this time of year, and the last thing Will wanted was attention.

            “I’m serious, though,” he added after a moment. “You already managed to dent the finger-guards punching bricks. You can’t _do_ that. It’s steel, not diamond.”

            “I won’t, I won’t,” said Will distractedly, looking around. He’d been down to the Rizenbul train station a few times before, but only once before to ride a train – and never without an adult. “So…they’ll tell me when we get to Central, right?”

            “Yes, don’t worry.” King smiled encouragingly, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Will considered pushing it off, but decided to let it be. “And Central Station is the last stop anyway, so there we are.” He glanced down, smile faltering slightly. “Will, are you _sure_ you don’t want to-“

            “Yes, I’m sure,” he interrupted, trying not to roll his eyes. They’d had this discussion about five times over the last week.

            “It’s just…The last thing you want to do is draw attention –“

            “Old man, I’ll be drawing attention as it is. I’m wearing what I want.” Still, he reached down and tugged self-consciously at the hem of his skirt.

            Selim, being Selim, hadn’t even noticed at first, and blithely ignored Will’s choices of clothing for the most part. Whether that was from being off in his own little world or genuinely respecting his choices, Will didn’t know.

            “Well then…” King held out his hand, weathered face crinkling into a smile. “Good luck, Will.”

            He looked at the hand apprehensively for a moment, and then took it. Even with the automail, his hand just about disappeared into King’s, and he was sure he heard it rattle as the older man gave it a decisive shake.

            Selim grinned. “You’ll be great.”

            “Course I will. I always am.” He’d meant just to walk away, but even without Alex tightening slightly on the back of his neck, he knew it wasn’t enough. He enveloped Selim in a tight hug, tucking his tousled brown head under his chin. Somewhere in the last year, he’d grown and Selim hadn’t. Just another change.

            “Sel…I, uh…”

            “I know,” he interrupted with a cheeky grin. “Don’t kill yourself saying it.”

            Will didn’t have a response to that, so he just poked Selim in the side. Instead of yelping like usual, though, the eleven-year-old butted his head into his chest softly.

            The train whistle interrupted them, and they leapt apart, Will almost stumbling to the ground. “A-anyway…”

            “We’ll call!” piped up Alex, much to his relief.

            “You’d _better._ ”

            Finally, he tore himself away, leaping onto the train with his suitcase in hand. Somehow he managed to find his way down through the narrow aisle, pushing past people of all shapes and sizes who seemed to be moving around for no other purpose than making life difficult for him. Eventually he plopped down on one of the wooden benches, looking out of the window.

            The Bradleys were still there, and Selim, eyes roving up and down the train, found him with a grin. Standing on his tiptoes, he waved, and with a wry chuckle, Will wiggled his fingers in reply.

            The train began to move. Slowly, steadily, the small boy with his thatch of chocolate-coloured hair and his straight-backed, grizzled father began to disappear into the distance. Will watched them go, and in the glass, he could see Alex’s face just as intent.

            After a few minutes, the Rizenbul station could no longer be seen. However, they both kept watching, just like they had the last time they’d ridden a train. This time, though, they weren’t off to an apprenticeship, in search of a way to bring their mother back. This time they were on their own, and the search had changed.

            “Look!” exclaimed Alex in a moment of wonder. It took Will a moment to figure out what he was pointing to – without distinct fingers, a lot of accuracy was lost – but once he saw it, he couldn’t help smiling.

            It was the house on the hill, standing just above the rest of Rizenbul and visible for a few minutes between the rest of the foothills.

            Will sat back, suddenly exhausted. It felt so bizarre to have really, truly _begun._ A year had passed since he’d first decided to become a State Alchemist (and he still hadn’t done any alchemy – _worry about that later dammit)_ and it still felt surreal.

            “What was her name again? The woman who came to visit us?”

            Alex thought for a moment. “Uhh…Colonel…Solaris! That was her.”

            “Alright.” Will raised his head for a moment. “Hold on, weren’t we supposed to-“

            “Before we –“

            “Shit.” After a moment, he laughed. “Ah well, too late now. We’ll make it a surprise.”

            “What if she doesn’t like surprises, brother?”

            Will blew a raspberry. “Don’t be stupid. Everyone loves surprises.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “I hate surprises,” pronounced Colonel Diana Solaris with a face like thunder as she walked into her office brandishing a piece of paper.

            “What’s the matter, boss?” asked one hapless 2nd Lieutenant, looking up just in time to have his cigarette snatched away.

            “The Eastern rebels. Turns out the leader of that group we’ve been tracking escaped a _week_ ago and only now has anyone thought to inform me. Good thing Hughes already knows.” She slid behind her desk with a sigh and picked up the phone, dialing a number. “Hughes. Hughes!”

            “ _Yes, darling?_ ”

            She suppressed a groan, although the urge to smile was there as well. “Don’t call me that. We’re working and you’re married.”

            “ _Oh, well, I love you, Diana, but it_ _’_ _s true that no one can compare to the glistening flower who is Gracia! Oh, she_ _’_ _s even more beautiful now she_ _’_ _s pregnant, it_ _’_ _s absolutely fantastic, and we_ _’_ _ve decided on baby names, too! It was a hell of a choice, though, we couldn_ _’_ _t decide between Raphael and Gabriel for a boy, although we know we_ _’_ _ll call our little girl Elysia-_ _“_

Diana looked up with a sly smile. “Valjean, do you think it’s possible to set someone on fire over a phone line?”

            The Lieutenant, calmly organizing files in another corner, didn’t even bother replying, although he grinned along with her.

            Maes cleared his throat on the other end of the line. _“_ _No need for that, Diana. What do you want to know?_ ”

            “How’s the sweep going, first of all?”

            _“_ _Initial sweep didn_ _’_ _t reveal anything, but that means squat. Falman_ _’_ _s doing a secondary sweep to see if I missed anything, but other than that, we_ _’_ _re just going to have to stay on guard._ ”

            “Alright. And the General?”

            _“_ _Safe, happy, cheerful._ ” The Lieutenant-Colonel’s voice was wry. _“_ _He_ _’_ _d better be with all the work we_ _’_ _re doing._ ”

            “Good. Just keep doing routine checks after each stop – at a station or not – and stay alert. Call me back if anything else happens.”

            _“_ _Sure thing, Diana._ ”

            “Oh, and one last thing. Would it kill you to at least pretend to be professional?”

            Maes laughed heartily. “ _Maybe. Would it kill you to relax?_ ”

            “Maybe. Go do your job.”

            “ _Later, Colonel._ ”

            She hung up the phone and glared icily up at Valjean, who had at some point made his way across the room to stand in front of her desk with a shit-eating grin.

            “You,” she growled. “This is your fault.”

            He pulled a look of mock innocence, gesturing at his chest with wide eyes. “My fault? What on earth do you mean… _Colonel?_ ”

            She narrowed her eyes in return. “ _You_ told him to join the military with you. _You_ were friends with him. And somehow you convinced _me_ to be friends with him. And now I’m being babbled at about baby names while a train is possibly in danger.”

            Valjean laughed after a moment of shellshock. “Come on, you know he’d be all business if there _was_ any danger. Besides, a baby is pretty cool.”

            “I’m sure. How do you feel about being an uncle?”

            Just as she knew he would, Valjean shuddered. “I’ll pass on that. Imagine babysitting a little Maes!”

            “I’d rather not.”

            “So…” He lowered his sunglasses, purple eyes serious. “What do we do now?”

            “Wait. It’s all we can do.”

            He growled, but said nothing, sitting down in a chair and folding one leg over the other. Diana could feel his usual discomfort with the uniform – he preferred outfits of a different type, better suited to combat, but as an officer and not a State Alchemist he didn’t have that flexibility. It was just pure luck that he hadn’t been court-martialled for his _hair_ yet. That many spikes had to be a hazard to somebody.

            She remained outwardly calm. It was a gift that Valjean didn’t share, her ability to stay composed at all times. Inside, however, there was something niggling at her – something keeping her on edge. 

* * *

 

            “Hi!”

            Will ignored the voice. Probably some stupid brat talking to some stupid stranger.

            “Aren’tcha gonna say somethin’, miss?”

            Some stupid female stranger.

            “Halloooo?”

            Finally, Will couldn’t ignore the little girl any longer – she was now tugging at the hem of his skirt. Turning his head towards her, he growled, “I’m not a girl, now move along.”

            She stuck out her lip, which was trembling rather ominously. Will rolled his eyes. “Oh for chrissakes –“

            She began to bawl.

            “Oh, wait, hold on, sh – no wait I can’t say that –“ He clapped a hand against his forehead.

            “Brother, you’re hopeless.” Alex walked along his shoulder and jumped down onto the seat. The girl stopped crying immediately at the sight of him, eyes going wide with wonder.

            “Hi there,” he said cheerily. She blinked, and then her tearstained face split into a grin.

            “You’re a dolly!”

            “Yes, yes I am. My name’s Alex. What’s yours?”

            “I’m Millie!”

            Will rolled his eyes. He didn’t like kids at the best of times, and being called a girl didn’t rank high on his list of ‘good omens’. Not that he was superstitious either.

            He glanced up – and made sudden eye contact with a grey-haired man with a panicked expression. He seemed to be struggling to say something.

            He groaned. King had been right after all. Not that he’d ever let the dumb geriatric _know_ _…_ “Yeah. I’m wearing a skirt. Deal with it, old man.”

            The man’s eyes flickered down to where Alex was chatting with Millie, and suddenly made a face like he’d been winded. A second later, he was dashing down the length of the train.

            Will’s spine tingled with uneasiness. He turned to Alex, about to tell him to keep out of sight, when Millie rushed over to him and asked, “M-uh, Mister, w-why do you have a metal leg?”

            “I, uh…” Shit. He hadn’t actually thought of what to tell people yet. “Uh…”

            She looked up at him expectantly, eyes wide and bright. Her tears were already forgotten – and suddenly, he remembered telling tall tales to Alex and the other village kids.

            He grinned. “I lost my real one in a fight with a dragon.”

            “A _dragon?_ ” She gasped, and crawled up on the seat next to him. “What kinda dragon?”

            “It was as big as this train, with lots of green scales and teeth as big as your arm…” 

* * *

 

            The phone rang, and Diana almost dropped it with how quickly she brought it to her ear. “Colonel Solaris – oh, it’s you, Maes.”

            “ _Hey, Di. Falman just got back from his sweep, and he_ _’_ _s in a bit of a state._ _”_

Her grip tightened on the phone. “What? What’s the matter?”

            _“_ _He says there_ _’_ _s a talking doll on the train._ _”_

She blinked. “Pardon me?”

            _“_ _That_ _’_ _s what I said, too. It_ _’_ _s a doll_ _–_ _a wooden doll, like little girls play with, and it_ _’_ _s moving and talking._ _”_

It took her a moment, and suddenly, she was seized with an urge to burn something. “Your train stops in Rizenbul, doesn’t it?”

            _“_ _Yeah, that was the last stop._ _”_

“Was the doll with a blond, probably with automail?”

            Maes was quiet for a moment, although Diana could hear the quiet sounds of his discussion with Falman. After a few seconds, he spoke again. _“_ _Yeah, a crossdresser._ _”_

            “…Well, that’s new.”

            “ _You know these people?_ ”

            She sighed. “Unfortunately. The blond’s a State Alchemist potential and the doll is his brother. It’s a long story. I’ll have to have a chat with them about discretion.”

            _“_ _Alright. So no worries?_ ”

            Diana paused before answering. “No.”

            _“_ _I_ _’_ _ll take your word for it._ ” He didn’t quite sound like he believed her. “ _I_ _’_ _ll keep you updated._ ”

            “Thank you.” She slammed the phone down onto its cradle. “Damn it!”

            Valjean looked up from inspecting his nails. “So they came after all?”

            “Yes! And they didn’t call me ahead of time – which means they’re on that train.” She took a deep breath. “Idiots.”

            “They’re kids.”

            “I know. The last thing I want is for them to get caught in the crossfire.” She sighed again, and then smirked. “Well, at least they won’t disobey my orders again after this.”

            It was a foolish hope, but she wasn’t to know that yet.


	8. Search and Destroy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Skunk Anansie, from the 'Sucker Punch' soundtrack.
> 
> Trigger warning: violence, references to death

**~8~**

_Look out honey cause I'm using technology_

_Ain't got time to make no apologies_

_Soul radiation in the dead of night_

_Love in the middle of a fire fight_

**_-Search and Destroy_ **

            "Excuse me?"

            Will looked up from the enthralled Millie, and groaned as he recognized the man who'd been so startled by them before. "Whaddaya want, gramps?"

            "Are you... William Elric?"

            "Well, yeah." He narrowed his eyes. "How'd you know my name?"

            Falman sighed in relief. "I just heard from somebody that you were going to be on this train. That's all."

            A second later, a gun crashed down on his head, and his eyes rolled backwards as he slumped to the ground. "That's enough from you," growled his assaulter, who then pointed the gun at Will.

            "Wh-what?"

            "Hands _up._ "

            "But -"

            "I said up!"

            Will slowly raised his hands into the air, surreptitiously looking down at Alex. He was slumped lifelessly on the seat, and his heart suddenly leapt into his throat. _Why wasn't he moving?_

Another gunman appeared from the same seat as the first, pointing his weapon up and down the carriage. "That goes for all of you. Sit still, shut up and don't make a fuss."

            The first, who Will had already mentally dubbed 'Carrot-top' for his ginger-dusted hair, picked up Alex between his fingers and appraised him emotionlessly through his sunglasses. "What is this? You had it moving and talking before."

            "Just..." Will swallowed, trying to stop the rising feeling of panic. "Just a toy."

            "Just a toy, huh? You seem pretty nervous for just a toy."

            "It's probably a bug," commented the other gunman, at which Carrot-Top snorted and dropped Alex on the ground, lifting his foot. He was a second away from crushing him.

            _Why isn't he MOVING? Why isn't he -? Why why why why_

            About half a second later, Will dropped down and drove his open palm upwards into the gunman's chin, sending him toppling backwards onto the seat, and then onto the floor.

            "H-hey!" The second man swivelled around, aiming his gun at Will, but before he even had the chance to fire, an automail fist crashed into his face. Blood spurted from his nose as he staggered backwards, and one hand flew to his face to staunch the bleeding. He raised the gun again, but got no farther than his hip before Will had ducked and swept his feet out from underneath him. There was a 'thunk' as his head hit the floor.

            Will smirked, taking a moment, when suddenly Millie cried, "Look out!"

            He spun on his heel to see Carrot-Top getting to his feet again, one lens of his sunglasses broken and a cold blue eye glaring out furiously.

            "Oh _shit -_ " Just as the word left his mouth, instinct kicked in. Quite literally. He jumped into the air. and kicked Carrot-Top in the head, knocking them both to the ground. He smacked his chin into the floor with a nasty jolt, but when he opened his eyes again...he saw Alex.

            Alex, sitting up and looking at him.

            "ALEX!" he yelped, leaping forward rather ungracefully and snatching him up in an embrace. "You're - I - you - I - don't - what happened?" He held Alex slightly away from him - and was suddenly smacked by a tiny wooden fist.

            "It was a _ruse,_ you idiot! A clever ruse!"

            "Ah - what?" Will could have sworn Alex was rolling his eyes. "They were going to crush you!"

            "And they probably would have done worse if they thought I wasn't just a toy! I'm made of _wood,_ I can be fixed! Trust me, I've transmuted myself back together before - you didn't have to go all gung-ho hero on me!" Suddenly, Alex chuckled. "Although, if I ever needed proof you cared -"

            "Oh for fuck's sake, don't go mushy on me -"

            "- you just took out two armed soldiers on your own."

            Suddenly Will felt very weak at the knees. If he hadn't already been sitting down he might have collapsed. "...Well, shit. I guess I did." He broke into a grin, even if it shook at the corners. "It's the skirt. It's the source of my powers."

            "You're so _reckless_."

            "Reckless is right!" someone interrupted. They both looked up. A woman was holding Millie in her arms, tears welling at the corners of her eyes. "Look what you've done - now they'll kill us all!"

            Murmurs began to spread through the carriage, and Will snarled as he looked around, "What, you would have preferred sitting here like a bunch of sheep?"

            Millie's mother didn't respond, but the look in her eyes was answer enough.

            "Cowards, the lot of you," muttered Will angrily.

            "Don't worry, Mama!" Millie wrapped her arms around the woman's neck with a blissful expression. "Big Sister's gonna go beat up the nasty men."

            Will bit back an irritated comment as Alex giggled. Apparently the little girl still hadn't wrapped her head around the idea that he was a _guy._

"And why's that?" Despite her attempt at sounding reassuring, the older woman couldn't hide the fear in her eyes or the tenseness in her voice.

            "Because she kicked a dragon's _butt!_ " Millie chirped, and the entire traincar burst into tense, semi-relieved laughter.

            As it subsided, Will held up his automail arm and made a fist. "You _bet_ I did. And these guys were pussies - er, sorry - I can take on the rest of them no problem. You just sit tight and I'll take care of 'em." He leant down and pulled the guns from the two mens' limp grips. "Alright, somebody's gotta stand guard on these two bozos. Alex and I'll go and see what's going on -"

            "Hold on, kid, just a second!"

            Will looked down the aisle, where Falman was crawling out from where he'd been dumped, rubbing his head with a rueful expression. "You're not going _anywhere_ alone."

 

* * *

 

 

            When the phone rang once again, Diana was filled with a sudden sense of misgiving. It was too soon. He shouldn't be calling again so soon - but she picked it up anyway. "Hello?"

            The voice, however, wasn't Hughes's. "Is-is this Lieutenant-Colonel Solaris? It's General Hak -" The voice was quickly cut off and replaced by another.

            "This is Bard of the Eastern Liberation Front, Blue Squad. We have taken control of this train."

            The pit of her stomach dropped, but she smirked anyway. _So it has come to this after all._ "Mr. Bard. I've heard of you. Well then...What do you want from me?"

            "Don't play dumb! We suddenly lost contact with one of our allies today - someone who was supposed to have delivered a statement to you."

            "A statement? Hm, I'm sure I'd remember something like that. I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

            She could hear him gritting his teeth through the line, and then he sighed. "Okay, fine. Bring our leader in Prison No. 8 to Central Station. We'll exchange prisoners there."

            "It's a date, Mr. Bard. However -" Her voice turned deadly serious. "If you hurt a single man, woman or child on that train -" The line went blank, and she hung up the phone.

            Valjean was on his feet, rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes. He was  itching to do something, Diana knew, instead of this damnable _waiting._ "What's the situation?"

            "They've got the train. I don't know where Hughes is. But..." She swallowed, her mouth suddenly very dry. "They've already killed somebody."

            "What are they demanding?"

            Diana shook her head. "Ridiculous things. The ally who delivered the statement - they were allowed to go free as a sign of good will. The so-called leader that they want released - he escaped a week ago."

            Valjean's eyes widened. "They're looking for excuses."

            She nodded grimly. "That train is doomed." She paused, glanced down at the wood of her desk, and then traced the whorls in the smooth surface with her white gloved finger. "Unless..." She looked back up. "Hughes would have lain low at the first sign of trouble. He's already gathering intel and working up a plan of resistance. Falman...Falman will obey Hughes's orders, but he won't resist on his own steam, so he's safe for now. And then...there's the Elric brothers."

            "Wild cards."

            "Wild cards might be exactly what we need." Still, her eyes remained troubled as she said quietly, "Let's see what these boys can do."

* * *

 

            Falman eyed the two limp bodies nervously. "You did that? Alone? Well, this is embarrassing."

            Will raised an eyebrow, barely keeping a smirk of pride off of his face. "How come? They clocked you."

            The man rose wearily to his feet and lowered his voice. "The name's Falman... Warrant Officer."

            "You're a soldier? Really? But they took you out so easily -"

            "There were two of them! I'm only one man!"

            "There's only one of me. And I'm _twelve."_

            "Element of surprise is everything!" Falman coughed. "Anyway, the point _is,_ you two are too young to be wrapped up in this. Just...sit tight and I'll take care of it."

            "Like you took care of those two?" Alex pointed out, at which Falman couldn't help colouring slightly. "What _is_ this, anyway?"

            Will nodded along with Alex's question.

            Falman took a deep breath and leant in to be doubly sure no one else would hear. "There's a reason I'm dressed like this. Up in the first car are General Hakuro and his family, coming back from vacation."

            You could have heard a pin drop. And then Will hissed furiously, resembling a snake more than a boy, "Are you fucking _serious? That's_ what this is about? Some puffed-up general getting his ass chased by some stupid terrorists who think dragging an entire fucking _trainload_ of people -"

            "-William-"

            '-into some messed-up nightmare of a trip and -"

            "-Brother-"

            Will took a deep breath, and then exhaled irritatedly, blowing a few stray strands out of his face. "So there's other soldiers on the train?"

            "A few. The General wanted to keep a low profile."

            "Great, so it's up to a handful of soldiers -" _-like you-_ "and us to take back the train against god-knows-how-many hijackers. You and Alex stay here and guard these two bozos."

            "Not on your _life,_ Brother."

            Will sighed, tempted to just shove Alex into Falman's hands, but his heart still hadn't slowed to a regular pace after nearly seeing him crushed under Carrot-Top's foot. "Fine. You stay here and guard these bozos, make sure no one else gets in and keep everybody calm." He walked over to the window.

            "Where are you going?"

            He flashed him a grin. "The high road." Pulling the window open, he stuck his head out and looked up and down before ducking back in and pushing first one, then the other leg through. "Hold on tight, Alex."

            "No, _obviously_ I'm going to let go. What do you think?"

            "Hey, just making sure your brain didn't get smaller as well as the rest of you." Will caught Millie's eye, and flashed her a thumbs up before lowering his feet carefully down until he found a ledge. He grabbed the window with both hands, trying to gain a foothold, and then pulled himself back up with a growl. "This is useless."

            "What's the matter?" asked Alex.

            "These goddamn shoes." He pulled them off, wary of his precarious balance, and tossed them back into the car. "Can't do a damn thing with them on."

            Alex sighed. "What is it with you and doing things barefoot?"

            "It's just _easier!_ Now shut up, I have to concentrate." Finding the foothold was, like he'd said, a lot easier in his bare feet, although the metal of the train's exterior was almost painfully hot. Once he'd done that, he could inch over to the ladder that led to the top of the train - also made of metal, also hot.

            It was once he reached the top of the train, however, that the heat _really_ became an issue.

            "OWW! Oh jeez, oh _jeez!"_ Will slid back onto the ladder. "Ah, ah, ah, oww..."

            "Funny thing, Brother, metal gets _hot_ in the sun."

            "Shut _up,_ brat." He'd officially used up all the goodwill from Alex's near-miss. "It hurts."

            "It _hurts?"_ asked Alex in an incredulous tone, to which Will considered tossing the annoyance at the back of his neck into the sunset. Not that the sun was setting, or even close to it. It was the thought that counted.

            "You know I don't like pain!" Will sat down on a rung of the ladder, hooking his arm around the side to brace himself. With a sigh, he brought the hem of his black shirt to his mouth and ripped it with his teeth, tearing off a strip all the way around.

            "What are you doing?"

            "Problem-solving," he replied, wrapping the pieces of cloth around his flesh foot. It wasn't nearly as clunky as a shoe, but it offered a bit of protection so he wouldn't get burned. "One of my problems, anyway."

            "What's that supposed to mean?"

            "It means that for someone with a painted on mouth, you're doing a hell of a lot of talking." He climbed back up onto the top of the train, and found it much more bearable.  He began to make his way towards the smokestack, the wind whipping at his long hair and drowning out all other sound.

            The train turned a corner, and his vision was suddenly obscured by a thick swath of blond. "Damn it!" he cursed, pulling it out of his face -

            "BROTHER, LOOK OUT!"

            He never saw the tree branch jutting out from the cliff until it was too late. 


	9. Make A Move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Icon for Hire.
> 
> Trigger warning: blood, injury, violence, gore, guns

~9~

_Cause everybody's so scared_

_We don't wanna go there_

_We don't wanna make a move_

_We got got all our lives to lose_

_Screaming in the dark while we just play our part_

**_-Make a Move_ **

****

****

            Will opened his eyes, very confused. He'd been falling a minute ago, and now -

            "Hey, are you alright?"

            He blinked. A dark-haired man, square-jawed with rectangular glasses and a brush of black stubble, was looking down at him. He looked down at his feet, and belatedly realized that he'd fallen off of the train - or would have, if the stranger hadn't caught him.

            "I'm surprised you got this far," said the stranger conversationally, as if he weren't supporting both of their weights with one hand and foot on some very flimsy-looking metal bars. "I'm Hughes, by the way. You're William Elric, right?"

            Will nodded slowly, still a little bit shellshocked. Then - "Hold on, how'd you...?"

            Hughes laughed. "Lieutenant-Colonel Solaris told me all about you. Now then, you'll work with me. I've already checked things out below -"

            "Whoa, whoa." Will reached forward, pulling himself up and sitting carefully on the metal bars. "You're military, right?" At Hughes's nod, he snorted. "Not got a whole lotta faith in you guys right now. Alex and I had to beat up the guys in our own damn car because the soldier was so useless - _Alex!"_ he cried out suddenly, hand darting to the back of his neck.

              "Oh, _now_ you notice," came the dry response. "I'm fine, by the way, thank you for asking."

            "Yeah, well, next time I won't."

            Hughes chuckled, starting to climb back up onto the top of the train. "I'm not just military, I'm _Intelligence_. Now come on, kiddo. We've got a train to recapture."

* * *

           "So what do you think?" whispered Alex.

            "Of what?" he murmured back, focusing on keeping his balance. Hughes seemed to have no problem striding along the moving train, but especially after his close call, Will was feeling a little shaky.

            "Of Mister Hughes."

            "Eh. Too cheery for my taste," Will muttered. "Now do me a favour and stop distracting me."

            As he said that, Hughes turned and gestured to him to hurry up. With a frustrated sigh, Will picked up the pace.

            Hughes kept his voice low, adjusting his glasses as he looked down at the car they were standing on. "This is the head of the train," he murmured, crouching down and touching the metal with his fingertips. "I'll bet you anything they've got the drivers at gunpoint."

            "How d'you know that? Maybe they were in on it."

            The dark-haired man's eyebrows flew upwards. "You've got quite the mind on you. Ever thought about Intelligence?"

            "Nah, he gave it all to me," chirped Alex, earning a not-very-effective smack and a subdued chuckle from Hughes before he laid himself flat on his stomach, peering over the edge. After a moment, he hopped back to his feet.

            "What are you doing?" asked Will, trying not to sound as peeved as he felt.

            Hughes grasped his shoulders, green eyes steely and determined. "I'll take them out - you two stay here until I give the okay."

            Will knew they were in a dangerous situation. He'd stared down the business end of a gun only minutes before.

            But -

            "Hell no!" he exclaimed, practically ripping Alex off of his neck and pushing him into Hughes's chest. Before either of them had the chance to complain or protest, he ducked his head over the other side of the train -

            - only to find himself looking into a pair of wide, black eyes, just as surprised as he was.

            He pulled up his head and, not giving himself time to catch his breath _(cause if I do, I know I'm just gonna run in the other direction),_ grabbed the rail on the side of the train, jumping down and through the window. He felt his foot smash into something, hopefully not one of the drivers, and then he released the rail, landing with a crash inside the cab.

              "You _punk!"_ For the second time that day, Will was staring down the business end of a gun, except this one was about the size of his arm.

              His eyes flicked to where the man he'd kicked, a burly, mustachioed strongman, was getting back to his feet, lifting his own gun. There was no kindness, or surprise - just a hard, shiny surface where their eyes should have been. He'd never seen people so devoid of emotion.

              The thought hit him, sickening and twisting in his stomach.

              _I'm going to die._

_They're going to kill me._

He was frozen. He couldn't move because if he did, he was dead but he was still dead and _oh my god I'm so sorry_

\- and a purple-shirted figure slipped through the other window. Will frowned, and both men swivelled around at his change of expression just as a flash of metal appeared in Hughes' hand.

              The scream reached Will's ears before he processed the blood streaming out of the strongman's hand, pierced through with the small throwing knife. But as it _did_ process, the adrenaline that had been frosted with fear suddenly broke free, flooding his veins.

              The second man had turned towards Hughes, apparently deeming him a greater threat. _Big mistake._

Will swung his metal fist, feeling his own electricity jolt through it as he drove it into the back of the man's head. He went down like a ton of bricks, sending a thrill of satisfaction through his chest.

              Never mind that his heart was jumping and shaking.

              Hughes walked slowly over to him, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder. The contact made him start. "Are you alright?"

              Will couldn't do anything but nod, and even then it was little more than a jerk of his chin.

              "I never thought I'd find myself saying this to someone...but..." Hughes smiled wryly. "Work on following orders."

              Will inclined his chin again, and then reached for Hughes's pocket. Alex poked out his head, black yarn tangled and messy, and Will picked him up - only to be smacked lightly.

              "You're an idiot, Will," he said, but his voice was soft.

              He just shrugged. "It worked out, didn't it?" He plastered a false grin onto his face. "Told you these guys were pushovers."

* * *

              A moment later, as he ducked his head down to avoid the loud gunshots, heart coming up into his mouth, Will began to regret saying that.

              "Are you alright?"

              "We can't go this way!" he cried back, and then hissed to Alex, "Which way _do_ we go, then?"

              "But, Brother -"

              "Alex, just tell me which way to go!"

              Alex sighed in irritation, and then began to climb up Will's arm.

              "What are you _doing?"_ Will tried to grab for him, but had to grab the ladder again when he felt himself falling backwards.

              "What you seem to have forgotten you can do." Alex pulled out a handful of yarn from his head and arranged the threads into a simple circle, his nubbed hands remarkably deft. It lit up under his touch, and a shield of metal shot up from the train. The bullets ricocheted off of it harmlessly.

              "There we go," whispered the doll.

              "Good work!" yelled Hughes, still almost a full car behind, although he was starting to catch up now that they were under cover.

              Will collapsed to all fours behind the shield, and smiled at Alex. "That was...pretty good, actually."

              "Thanks, but why didn't you -"

              Whatever Alex had been about to say was interrupted by another round of bullets, leaving dents in the metal - one of them right by Will's face.

              Hughes finally caught up to them, head ducked like a soldier on a battleground. "That shooter's in Hakuro's car. That's where we need to get to."

              "Oh fan-" Will clapped his hands sarcastically, just as a bullet ripped through the metal and into his side.

              He lurched forward with a sound somewhere between a gasp and a scream as the pain ripped through him like a lightning bolt - and his hands landed squarely on the steel wall.

              Alchemy needs direction. Transmutation circles serve that purpose for most alchemists - their lines and runes a set of instructions, telling the energy of the alchemist what to do, what to craft, what to create. But when that energy is set free without instructions, it cannot create.

              All it can do is destroy.

              The shield shattered into a thousand fragments under Will's touch, falling away and blown by the movement of the train into the face of the shooter.

              His screams lasted a long time.

              Will fought the urge to fall to his knees and empty his stomach, although he did avert his eyes. His side didn't hurt anymore, although it stung a bit. He wanted to lie down so much, close his eyes -

              - and suddenly he stopped being drowsy as he stared disbelievingly at his hands.

              What the hell had just happened?

              Alchemy - destructive alchemy - without a circle - It had been so long since he'd even _touched_ a circle.

              Could _everybody_ do this? Just him?

              Then Hughes was running ahead of him, and he remembered that there were still people to be saved, still criminals to defeat -

              He wasn't done yet. He'd help Hughes - he'd win - and then he could lie down.

              He could barely feel the wound in his side, anyway. It probably wasn't too serious.


	10. Until It Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Linkin Park.
> 
> Trigger warning: fairly gruesome deaths, violence, blood

~10~

_The body bends until it breaks_

_and sings again no more_

_'cause time has torn the flesh away_

**_-Until it Breaks_ **

 

            Bard had not gotten where he was by being squeamish - so when Eldon's mutilated body fell back down into the car, his gun clattering out of his lifeless hands, he didn't flinch. His men, however, were another story.

            "What could have _done_ that?"

            "What kind of weapons do they have?"

            "I never signed up to fight no demons!"

            "That's it," growled one of the rebels, turning his gun towards Hakuro and his family. "Let's just kill 'em now and ditch this fuckin' disaster area -"

            Hakuro sprang to his feet, placing his body in front of his children in a desperate attempt to protect them, but Bard lifted his arm and fired two rounds into the dissenter's chest.

            "Anybody else have any bright ideas?" he asked menacingly. He was answered only with silence. "Sit down," he snarled at Hakuro. The General slowly eased down into his seat, never taking his eyes off of the terrorist leader.

            Silence reigned. Bard turned his good eye towards the door, trying to gage what would happen next. They'd lost contact with two cars so far - the locomotive and one of the back passenger cars.

            Whatever came next, he'd have to be prepared.

* * *

            "What else can you do with that?"

            "With what?" snarled Will, insofar as one can snarl quietly.

            "That...clappy thing. That was helpful."

            "I can't do anything with it. I don't even know if I can do it again."

            Hughes sighed. "Pity. So, we need to somehow disarm the rebels without hurting the General and his family -"

            "Hold up." Will held up a finger. "We don't need to disarm them, we just need to delay them until we get to Central where there's backup, right?"

            Hughes blinked, and then nodded. "That's right. But there's no way to let them know to have soldiers ready -" He stopped, and then grinned. "Unless I call ahead. Good thinking, kiddo." His grin faded. "But there's no way to guarantee that they won't start killing people before we get there."

            "I'll stay here. Nobody will do anything anywhere in the train without an order from the big guys here, right?"

            "Most likely. We can't be sure, though -"

            "It's all we got. Now go make the damn call."

            "And if they give the order?"

            "Then I'll do something."

            Hughes gave him a concerned look, and then shook his head with a small smile. Before Will could begin to figure out how to react to that, he was gone, heading back down towards the phone line.

            Once he was out of sight, Will leant slightly over, trying to get a glimpse into the open hatch. "How many do you see, Alex?"

            "Six or seven, I can't tell. I think the General and his family are in that side-partition there."

            "Think I can take them?" he murmured almost soundlessly.

            Alex was silent for a moment. Then - "You're an idiot, Brother."

            Will grinned. His heart was jackhammering against his ribs, his spine was tingling - he wanted to _do_ something.

            And in a sudden realization that pitted elation against disgust, he realized that he _could._

"You've got my back, right?"

              "How?" hissed Alex. "I don't have chalk, I don't have anything! What the hell am I supposed to do -"

              "Figure it out," said Will with a grin, just before he got to his feet and jumped into the train car.

* * *

              Bard knew whoever had killed Eldon would be coming eventually, but he'd been expecting someone bigger. The figure who'd just leapt into the car, landing on his feet with a trained grace, hardly made it to his chin - still, he knew better than to underestimate anybody. 

              Nevertheless, he held out a hand to his men. "Hold your fire."

              The boy smirked. "Cocky."

              "Who are you? One of Solaris's operatives?"

              He snorted. "Hardly. Just a civilian who thinks you're a bunch of shitheads."

              Bard's arm twitched under his cloak, but he forced himself to be still. This kid had killed Eldon, and he wanted to know how. He said as much.

              The boy shrugged, and then placed a hand on his hip, rubbing his neck. "Eh, I _could_ tell you, but then you'd just shoot me."

              "Okay. What should we do, then?" Bard tried to keep his tone light, trying to decide whether he was dealing with a stupid kid sticking his nose where he didn't belong, or someone legitimately dangerous.

              Or both.

              In a sudden, swift motion, the blond pulled his hand away and threw something into the open compartment, making the family inside scream in fear. At the movement, the already-tense terrorists opened fire on the teenager in their midst, the rat-tat-tat of the guns drowning out all other sound.

              "HOLD YOUR FIRE!" screamed Bard, trying to regain his control. The gunfire ceased.

              "Heh-heh." The cloud of dust began to clear. There was no sign of the boy. But the laughter continued, tired but mocking. "Heh-heh-heh."

              A glint of automail. A shine of gold.

              Will looked up, grinning with wide, mad eyes. "What should you do, huh?" he asked, one hand clutched to his side. His face suddenly tensed with pain, and his grin vanished into a grimace. He pulled his hand away, covered with blood.

              "Die."

* * *

            Pacing wasn't working. The firing range was too far away from the phone. She didn't have a dartboard, chess was too slow, and her _other_ method of stress-relief was advised against in official buildings.

              And her nails were absolutely off-limits.

              So when the phone rang, she just about fell out of her chair. Much to Valjean's credit, he didn't laugh, but simply answered it for her.

              "Central Headquarters, Lieutenant Valjean." A moment later, his face split into a relieved smile. "You're alive. Thank God."

              Diana leapt to her feet and snatched the phone away. " _Maes?"_

_"In the flesh, darling. Well, not exactly. And what happened to being professional?"_

"Damn it, I was worried about you!"

              Valjean cleared his throat. Diana ran a hand through her hair, trying to compose herself. "What's the news?"

              _"Not much good, I'm afraid. The Elric boys and I took out a few of them - Falman's guarding two in one of the rear cars, although I don't know how that's going. We've got control of the engine, though, so we can speed things up if you get us some back-up."_

Diana's grip tightened on the phone receiver. "They're planning something big - I don't think they plan to let anybody live."

              _"So I'm looking for a bomb."_

"You said it, not me. Yes. Find it, defuse it if you can - I know you know how - and..." She swallowed. "Don't. Die. _"_

_"Yes, ma'am!"_

* * *

"Mrs. Hakuro?"

              She opened one eye, and then the other, blinking as she realized who exactly was speaking to her.

              "Excuse me?" she replied, voice quiet and hoarse.

              The doll inclined its head. "Keep your head down and hold onto something, okay? I don't know what my brother's doing but it's probably mind-numbingly stupid." Beat. "That wasn't very comforting, was it? Sorry."

              Mrs. Hakuro shook her head dumbly.

              "Are you military?" She sighed in relief when her husband interrupted; the idea of having to say something was a bit beyond her right now.

              The doll shook its head. "Not exactly. We're connected with Lieutenant-Colonel Solaris -"

              "That uppity -"

              Whatever Hakuro had been about to say about Lieutenant-Colonel Solaris was cut off by a round of gunfire from outside the compartment. 

              "BROTHER!" Alex sprang for the hallway, but Hakuro was faster, slamming the door shut.

              "What are you doing?"

              "Trying to save my family," growled Hakuro in reply. "Running into the middle of a gunfight isn't going to solve anything!"

              However, a second later, he stumbled backwards. Through the small, round window was coming the unmistakable light of a transmutation - and just where the door met the ground, the floor was beginning to fall away.

              'Mind-numbingly stupid' didn't even _begin_ to cover it.

* * *

            Will watched each of them fall as if it were in slow-motion, counting them as he did.

              _One._

Down through what had been the floor, gun springing out of his hand.

              _Two._

Down onto the tracks, surprise giving way to sheer terror in the space of micro-seconds.

              _Three._

Black hair flying upwards as he descended, hiding his expression. Small mercies.

              _Four._

Arms reaching up, out, searching for a hold to save him.

              _Five._

If any of them had thought to lie down, they might have survived, but their impulses weren't strong enough.

              _Six._

They didn't even have time to scream.

              _Seven._

And Bard, face half-hidden with his eyepatch, sprang for Will in a last throe of vengeance, mouth twisting in hatred and his arm rising up to reveal dull metal. He fired one shot before he fell out of sight, and it came close enough to Will's ear to make him flinch and his head ring. But it didn't touch him.

              He threw himself backwards when he realized the floor was still disintegrating. How far would it spread?

              Idiot.

              There was another compartment right next to him. He threw open the door and collapsed onto the seat, checking the material and sighing as he realized that the transmutation would end at the seats. Safe islands.

              Will lay down.

              God, it hurt. He touched his side again, and flinched. He was hurt - badly hurt.

              "I hate pain," he murmured. His vision was swimming. For a split second, he thought he saw Selim, but it was nothing more than a mirage.

              Will closed his eyes, and knew nothing more.


	11. Everything's Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edited (very minorly) 03/09/2017
> 
> Lyrics by Andrew Lloyd Webber, from Jesus Christ Superstar.
> 
> Trigger warning: minor transphobia/transmisogyny, PTSD reference, death and injury, slight passing reference to sexual harassment.

~11~

_Oh don't you know everything's alright?_

_Yes, everything's fine_

_and we want you to sleep well tonight_

**- _Everything's Alright_**

****

****

            The train due from the Southwest pulled into Central Station half an hour early, but instead of its usual milling, multicoloured bustle, it was met with a sea of blue.

            A young woman stepped off the train, legs shaking - and was faced with the barrel of a rifle. "I-I..." She began to shake even more violently.

            "Sorry, honey," said the soldier on the other end, not unkindly. "We have to vet everybody."

            She began to cry as he ushered her to the side, and another soldier frisked her, running his hands up and down her body. "Don't touch me, _please,_ I..."

            "We're just checking for weapons, ma'am."

            One by one, the passengers came off the train and into the arms of the soldiers - some confused, some angry, some crying and fearful and others blank slates. The Lieutenant-Colonel watched every single one, memorizing their faces as best she could. Most would sink into oblivion before the day's end, she knew, but it was better than simply letting them each slip away.

            "Lieutenant-Colonel, sir!" Two soldiers came up to her, and just behind them a familiar face -

            "Hughes." She kept her voice calm, but couldn't help a small smile. He had no such reservations, grinning back and grabbing her hand, shaking it vigorously. However, his face was pale and beaded with sweat.

            "Took care of it, Di," he said, trying to keep his tone light and his words nonspecific. "Shoddily made, but still, uh, hefty enough."

            "Good thing you took care of it, then," growled Valjean appreciatively, coming up behind Hughes and visibly startling the Intelligence officer.

            "Man, how do you move so _quietly?"_ muttered Hughes slightly peevishly, although not without good humour, then added, "I'll pass on doing that again, if that's alright with you. I'll leave the high-stress situations to you circus freaks."

             "Well, _that's_ nice -"

            "Hughes." Maes's attention snapped back to Solaris, who was frowning. "Where are the Elrics?"

            "I got a call from Hakuro from his car saying the situation was resolved. I presume they're still up with him."

            She arched an eyebrow. "Resolved?"

            Maes nodded grimly. "I didn't press for details...but considering what else that kid did, I don't want to know."

            "What else he - Hughes, what did he do?" exclaimed Diana, her mask slipping a bit, but Hughes shook his head.

            "Not now."

            Valjean, who had wandered a ways away to supervise the clearing of the train, suddenly called out, "Solaris. Solaris!"

            Hakuro was climbing out of a car, clearly shaken but with no visible injuries. Behind him was his wife and two children...and behind _them_ was a soldier supporting a boy who looked half-dead. He didn't even seem to be conscious.

            "William," breathed Diana in a moment of shock, and then snapped back into reality. "Valjean, get those medics over here, and _find the brother._ Hughes -" She was about to order him to do something, but stopped as the blood he'd regained drained out of his face again.

            "He..." He abruptly buried his face in his hands. "It hit him."

            "What?"

            "The bullet," he murmured. "It hit him after all." After a moment, he sighed, dragging his hands away from his face. "I'm going to go see what happened in that car, figure out if there's anything left to interrogate." He started to walk past her, but Diana caught his shoulder.

            "Or," she said slowly, "you can go home, kiss your wife and figure out baby names." She smiled. "Your choice."

            Hughes blinked, nonplussed, and then covered her hand with his for a moment, smiling back. "You're a godsend, love."

            "Don't let Gracia hear you say that. Now go. You've got three hours."

* * *

            Resting her head uncomfortably on the back of the hospital chair, Diana reflected that William looked far more peaceful asleep than he ever had awake, unknowingly mirroring Selim's thoughts from a similar situation over a year ago. Her memory of him was faint, admittedly, but she could still remember the eleven-year-old's bitter vitriol, directed at seemingly everybody and nobody at once.

            With a sigh, she bent her head back over Falman's report. He listed a total of twenty casualties, with nine deaths, three major injuries (including Will) and eight with minor damage. It was a shockingly low number - and it had been close to being so, so much worse. There had been more than three hundred passengers on the train.

            Nine deaths. One of them had been the soldier assigned to Hakuro's compartment (one Captain Jack Lewis),but the rest were terrorists.

            Diana shook her head despairingly. Destructive alchemy and a ruthless, yet effective method...

            William Elric would most likely hate the military...but the State Military was going to _love_ him.

            There was a squeak of hinges as the door opened, and flicking her eyes up, she acknowledged Jareth's entrance with a slight smile at odds with her inner turmoil. He gave her a lazy salute that any other commanding officer might have bitten his head off for, and then automatically took his normal position standing behind her chair.

            "So what kind of kid have we saddled ourselves with?" he murmured, continuing as she glanced warningly up at him, "Don't worry. Fuery's already swept for bugs."

            "Circle-less alchemy," she replied quietly at his assurance.

            Jareth was silent for a heartbeat, before reaching forward and plucking one of the reports from Diana's hand. "You're _shitting_ me," he murmured, peering over his sunglasses to make sure he was reading it right.

            "I'm afraid not. He killed seven of the terrorists, including the ringleader, by decomposing the bottom of the train car."

            The Lieutenant whistled lowly. "That's brutal. Efficient, but brutal." Pause. "I think I like this kid."

            "That's exactly my problem," admitted the troubled officer, taking back the report. "He's a _child._ I expected...well, just about anything else."

            "Anything else wouldn't work very well as a State Alchemist," he pointed out. "So you're waiting here so that you can be sure you're the first to talk to him?"

            "Yes."

            "Permission to give you some advice, Diana, sir?"

            She glanced up. "Within reason, Lieutenant."

            "Remember his scars, not his years."

            She started at the familiar words, and then shook her head. "You don't need to tell me that."

            "Then stop feeling bad about dragging him into this. Chances are he woulda done it anyway."

            Diana wanted to say he was wrong, but simply looked back at the sleeping Will. "Where's Alex?"

            "Still with the Hakuros."

            She sucked in her breath, but forced herself to calm down. "That could be troublesome."

            "I'm sure he's got some story or explanation. Not a whole lot we can do - or that we're obliged to do - at this point. Which reminds me, you should get some sleep." Pause. "Sir."

            "Would you like to try that again?"

            He grinned. "C'mon, Di. You look like hell warmed over."

            "I appreciate that," she retorted in a flat tone. "Is that the line you use on all your girlfriends?"

            "I'm serious. I'll stand brat-duty - I mean, stay here until he wakes up." He lowered his sunglasses, fixing her with a playful look that contrarily meant that he was completely serious.

            She threw up her hands in defeat. "Fine, fine. If anyone needs me, I'll be in my office."

            "On the couch, asleep. Or else Vera comes out."

            "Vera?"

            Jareth patted his holster by way of answer.

            "Another one? How many do you need?"

            "You know me too well to expect a reasonable answer to that."

            Diana promptly got up before Jareth could start on his usual spiel. "If he wakes up... _be nice._ And that, my dear Lieutenant, is in fact an order."

* * *

            The black leather couch in Solaris's office was not new. She had purloined it from an office that was being vacated, and years and years of people had lain upon it, wearing its burnished, squeaky shine down to a comfortable, velvety surface, albeit with its fair share of scuff-marks. 

            Diana could easily have requisitioned a new one, of course. She was a Lieutenant-Colonel and the military was not short of supplies. But somewhere she'd become enamored with the idea that objects held memories, and maybe she dreamt somebody else's dreams while sleeping on it.

            But as she stared up at the ceiling fan making its lazy passes, she thought to herself that either it was simply a foolish fantasy after all, or that there was another person out there who broke into a cold sweat at the smell of smoke and burning flesh.

            Whoever he was, Diana hoped she never met him.

* * *

            Jareth Valjean was not a patient man. Nobody had ever had reason to call him patient, or to even consider applying the word to him. 

            So it was no real surprise when fifteen minutes into his vigil he was staring at the ceiling, seeing what patterns he could derive from the various brown stains on the white plasterboard while picking his teeth with his legs splayed out in front of him.

            Furthermore, to anybody well versed in the rules of the universe, it was no real surprise when Will chose that very moment to open his eyes.

            "Oh, fantastic. They sent me a trained monkey."

            Jareth suppressed a growl, trying to smile reassuringly. "Hey, kid, glad to see you're awake. I'm Lieutenant Val -"

            "Valjean, yes, I remember. I _don't_ remember you looking like such a tool."

            Jareth's hands flew instinctively to his glasses. "You little _bitch,_ you have no room to talk! What kind of dude wears a skirt, anyway?"

            "The kind who doesn't put enough shit in his hair to wax every floor in Central!"

            "Yeah, and _you_ would know, backwater hick -"

            "-military jackass -"

            "-skinny-assed tramp-"

            Outside, the nurses had begun to cluster around the door to William's room. Bets had been placed as to who would initiate the kissing, and a few were even nervously wondering if they shouldn't close the door before the head nurse finally cleared them away, telling them to clear their heads of such foolish notions.

            Still, five seconds into their first real meeting must have broken _some_ kind of record for how quickly it took two people to get on each other's nerves.


	12. I Think I'm Paranoid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Garbage.
> 
> Trigger warning: slight unreality, drug use
> 
> Edited 04/09/17

~12~ 

_I think I'm paranoid_

_and complicated_

_I think I'm paranoid_

_Manipulate it_

**_-I Think I'm Paranoid_ **

 

            The phone rang, yanking Diana from her uneasy sleep. She rubbed at her eyes with one hand - noticing with a sinking feeling in her gut that she still had her gloves on - and pushed herself up with her other hand... then froze at the sight of somebody else in her room.            

            Maes tried and failed to conceal his little smirk. "You'd better get that, Di. Don't want to keep them waiting."

            "You're in my office," she stated, rather self-evidently.

             He shrugged. "Havoc let me in."

            "I'll have to fire him later," she replied with an irritated growl, finally lifting her drowsy frame from the black couch and picking up the phone, holding a finger in Maes's direction to make sure he didn't speak. "Lieutenant-Colonel Diana Solaris speaking -"

            " _It's Valjean."_

She paused, a sleepy fog still jamming her engines and leaving her unable to properly interpret his tone. "Is something the matter?"

            _"This kid is the problem! God, why would you leave me in charge of any teenager, let alone the brattiest, most self-centered, freakishly annoying child in history! I swear I'm going to rip out his tongue if he complains about my look one more time, and - and - I am not a babysitter!"_

Diana was suddenly very glad it was Maes and not somebody else in the room with her; it would have been very hard to explain away her sudden laugh otherwise. "Lieutenant Valjean, did you call me just to tell me you can't handle a twelve-year-old boy?"

            _"No, I'm calling to tell you that now he's complaining that his brother hasn't come back from Hakuro's."_ The note of annoyance in Valjean's voice was clear enough to make Diana frown.

            "You seem to be forgetting that his brother is about ten inches tall. Head by Hakuro's office and see if you can't hurry things up a bit. I don't want those boys separated for long."

            _"Fine, fine -"_

"Valjean," she warned, and his responsive sigh sent a burst of static down the line.

            _"Yes, Lieutenant-Colonel Solaris."_

She chuckled. "Now that's what I like to hear. A man who knows his place."

            _"Sometimes I don't know why I put up with you."_

"Because I'm your commanding officer, of course. Dismissed, Lieutenant." She hung up before she could hear more than the beginning of what promised to be a very snarky reply, and slid behind her desk, steepling her fingers and giving Maes a serious look - mostly to try get away from the fact that he'd walked in on her asleep. Not for the first time, either. He kept _doing_ that. "Now. That report."

            Maes, who was in the middle of pretending to gag (rather hypocritically of him - she'd been _there_ when he'd come back from his first date with Gracia), immediately straightened up. "Where would you like me to begin?"

            "Where does any good story begin?" she asked with no shortage of sarcasm. "The beginning."

* * *

             Jareth grumbled all the way through the complex. Kids were decidedly not his forte by a _long_ shot - in fact, he'd rather deal with rabid wolves than babysit - so Diana's reasoning for essentially putting him in charge of two pre-teens eluded him. But at the same time, she was right - Alex _couldn't_ be left alone for too long. The fact that he was eleven years old didn't even play into it; anybody who could be rendered helpless simply by clutching him in your hand wasn't somebody to let into enemy hands.

            _Kid should have stayed at home... It's bad enough that I've got a twelve-year-old who wants to be a State Alchemist, but whatsisname - Alex - has absolutely no place in the military._ Unfortunately, it was hard to imagine  _where_ his place would be.

He brought himself to an abrupt halt, and glared at the door in front of him for a moment before raising his hand to knock - and stopped, as voices drifted out from behind the thick oaken door.

            "Dammit, stop with your tomfoolery! I'm asking you who you really are!"

            "My name is Alexander, I like to sing and play, I'll be your precious playmate each and every day! Laugh with me and sing with me, clap your hands and count with me, one two three one two three one two three!"

            Jareth reached up and lowered his glasses, staring at the door in astonishment before rapping his knuckles against it, schooling his features into something approaching solemnity.

            The door swung open, revealing Hakuro's secretary with the usual sour look on his face. "General Hakuro is busy right now."

            "Yeah, no, I don't think so. I can hear him yelling at that toy down the hall."

            The secretary's sour look deepened at that, but he stood aside. "Come in, then, Lieutenant Valjean." He said the name with an even bitterer tone than usual, but Jareth ignored it. He was just as used to that as he was to being widely recognized; it was all part of the Flame Alchemist's reputation that her adjutant was just as dangerous and just as fearsome.

            Fearsome or not, Jareth couldn't help a toothy grin when the inner door to Hakuro's office finally opened. The tableau within was worth the wait; Alex trotted robotically up and down the General's desk, clapping his hands in almost perfect time.

            "My name is Alexander, I like to sing and play, I'll be your precious playmate each and every day! Laugh with me and sing with me -"

            "Having some troubles, sir?" asked Jareth as disarmingly as possible, and was rewarded by a piercing glare.

            "Tell your man to stop fooling around," commanded Hakuro, folding his arms and looking for all the world like a petulant child. "He's been doing this for hours."

            "He? What?" Jareth put on his most quizzical, confused face. "...Sir, it's a toy." 

            "It is _not_ a toy! This little...person... kept my family and I out of danger."

            "That would be William Elric, sir. You're yelling at a doll. It's a clever little thing, though. It runs on alchemy."

            Reaching forward, he poked what would have, on a flesh-and-blood person, been Alex's bellybutton, and right on cue, the doll fell over, stopped in its tracks.

            The angry, puzzled look on Hakuro's face almost made Jareth burst out laughing on the spot, but his training held firm. "But - who _made_ it? I've never heard of such a thing."

            "I believe it's the Elric boy's own invention."

            Hakuro lifted an eyebrow at that, and then took a deep breath, managing to smile - even if it cracked a little bit at the corners. "He's a talented boy. Innovative. Good in combat situations. Has he thought of becoming a State Alchemist?"

            "He was planning to take the test the moment he turned eighteen."

            The General clicked his tongue at that. "Nonsense. No use in letting talent like that fester for six years. I'll write a recommendation to the Fuhrer tonight. With permission, he should be able to take this year's exam with no problems."

            "Thank you, sir. That's very kind of you." It was good that Hakuro was chronically incapable of picking up mockery in someone's tone. "Could I take William's toy back to him? He's been rather fretful about it."

            "Oh? Of course, of course." Hakuro flapped his hand at the doll, too embarrassed to even pretend to be professional at this point.

            "Thank you." Jareth picked up Alex and shoved him into his pocket, although he was mindful of the blood seal on his forehead. Obviously Hakuro hadn't noticed exactly what the marking on the supposed toy's forehead was made of. _Useless old geezer._

"Dismissed." Hakuro pressed his fingers to his temples. "And...close the door on your way out."

            Jareth bowed, and did so, although not with a silenced snicker as the door clicked closed. Only once he was safely away down the halls, however, did he lean against the wall and let himself laugh, shaking his head at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the impossible boy and, unable to voice his thoughts, just continued to shake his head.

            Alex didn't move for a moment, and then in a squeaky imitation of Jareth's own voice - "Thank you sir, that's _very_ kind of you."

            "Shut up, you little brat!" Jareth tried to say, but broke into helpless laughter again halfway through, running his free hand through his hair. "You - you are - _ridiculous._ I'd say don't ever do that again, but that was _brilliant._ "

            Alex chuckled a little bit and then sighed. Jareth gave him a look that was almost concerned, and then tucked him back into his chest pocket, murmuring just loud enough for him to hear, "I'm taking you back to your brother. Keep quiet."

            "You didn't need to tell me that, you know."

            "You're talking. Obviously I did."

* * *

            Will wasn't quite unconscious. Rather, he was in between sleep and wakefulness, hovering in a grey zone where the door, the lines of the ceiling, the posts of the hospital bed by his feet, were nothing but smudged, blurry lines. It was a morphine daze - he could still feel the hole in his side, but it didn't _hurt..._ it was just...there. 

            The door opened and a silhouette walked in, and Will moved his head slightly. It was Jareth (must have been Jareth) and Will felt himself smile when he realized what it meant. _Alex. Alex is back. I can yell at him for going off without me. I wonder if he's mad. ...Not that I care._

_I'm just glad...glad he's safe..._

If Will had been a little more alert and a little less doped up, he would have noticed sooner that the figure was not Jareth. However, the moment he realized it, the grey haze fled and his eyes snapped fully open.

            The nurse hovering over him recoiled a little bit, and then smiled reassuringly. Will found himself strangely captivated (it must have been the drugs) by her face - it was oddly familiar, although not overwhelmingly so.

            "Who are you?" he tried to ask, that nagging sense of _I know you_ refusing to leave him alone.

            She said nothing. Will studied her, fighting against the morphine that wouldn't let him focus. She was...pretty might have been the word he was reaching for. Long blonde hair tied up in a bun, with a few strands falling out and framing her face... One lock brushed against his face. She was leaning so close it was starting to make him uncomfortable.

            Her eyes were very, very blue.

            - And then the door, which the nurse had closed quietly behind her, swung back open. The nurse disappeared, leaving a white, glowing afterimage that burnt its way into Will's eyes, incinerating the last traces of grey.

            Jareth blinked. "Was there someone else in here, kid?" he asked, a suspicious undertone worming its way through his concerned voice.

            Will couldn't do anything but shake his head.

            He didn't know whether he was lying or not.


	13. Anywhere Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Enya.
> 
> Trigger warning: sexist comments, minor transphobia/transmisogyny, drug use reference

~13~

_I took the turn and turned to begin a new beginning_

_Still looking for the answer, I cannot find the finish_

_It's either this or that way, it's one way or the other_

_It should be one direction, it could be on reflection_

_The turn I have just taken, the turn that I was making_

_I might be just beginning, I might be near the end._

- ** _Anywhere Is_**

 

 

           The first thing Alex did at the sight of his brother was to crawl out of Valjean's pocket and (with a little help from the Lieutenant) jump onto Will's chest and smack him as roundly as he could.

            "You spent practically a _year_ in a hospital bed and now you're back in one?"

            If he'd been less drugged up, Will might have managed a more energetic response. As it was, he stuck out his tongue with a lazy 'nyeh'. "Shut up. Not my fault."

            "Oh no, not _your_ fault, _totally one hundred percent_ not your fault that you decided to take on seven terrorists by yourself! You're lucky you got off with one injury!"

            Will glared blearily up at Valjean. "Is it too late to ask you to take him back?"

            "You could pay me all the money in the world and it wouldn't be as much fun as watching you get lectured."

            "Bite me," he snarled.

            "I'd rather shoot you. Pity somebody beat me to it." Jareth sat down, folding his arms and grinning at Will's indignant scowl. "By the way, Hakuro gave his permission, you're good to go."

            "Go? You mean I can leave?"

            "God no. You nearly bled out. No, you're good to take the exam."

            Will blinked. "Huh?" 

            Valjean's grin widened, and then he coughed and tried to pull a straight face.  "You've got special permission from General Hakuro to take the State Alchemist exam."

            "You mean...I couldn't... _before...?"_

"No, of course not. Twelve-year-olds can't take the exam. That would just be silly."

            Will felt something in his face twitch. "YOU SON OF A BITCH -"

            "The exam is in two months or so, so we'll find you an alchemist to study with -"

            "I am going to _stab you -"_

"Bullshit, you're half my size and could probably slip down the nearest drainpipe -"

* * *

           The window above Will's bed was just high enough so that he couldn't see the street, just the October sky, but it was enough to let him know that it was absolutely _gorgeous_ outside and he was missing it. Admittedly, he wasn't the 'take a stroll in the park' kind of guy most of the time, but after a week stuck in bed, that window was just annoying him. 

            "Don't you dare."

            He gave his brother a glare. "Don't I dare _what?_ Brat."

            Alex folded his wooden legs as best as he could, tucking them into place. Will had to look away for a second. He still wasn't used to the way things were. Without thinking about it, he lifted his arm to fix his hair, and then stopped an inch away from his hair, recognizing all over again the weight of the automail.

            A year later and he _still_ couldn't adjust -

            "Ugh." He kicked off the sheets and sat up, wincing a little as the wound in his side pulsed warningly. "Come on, Alex, let's ditch this dumpster."

            "What? Are you _kidding?"_

"I'm going stir-crazy in here." He pulled off the blue hospital gown, picking up his underwear between his toes, tossing them up and catching them. He gave Alex a look. "Either you come with me or you get to stay and chat up the nurses."

            A sigh. "I better make sure you don't get into trouble." Beat. "...Will, is that -"

            "Look away if it _embarrasses_ you." Will pulled the waistband of his underwear over his dressing gingerly.

            "Please tell me you bought your own."

            He stared up at Alex with a sickened look. "What do you _think?"_

"...Yes?"

            "Yes! Just for that, I'm leaving you here, brat."

            Will pulled up his skirt and straightened his crop top with a huff, ignoring the sound of Alex smacking himself in the face and mumbling something that was decidedly not a compliment - followed by, "You could just wear boxers like everybody else!"

* * *

           Will only managed to get a few steps outside the door before his side started hurting again. It hadn't hurt nearly as much as he'd expected it to, but _damn_ it was annoying. "I want more morphine," he grumbled under his breath, before pulling a loose thread off of his top (still torn; he hadn't had time to get Alex to fix it and he was still wary about even putting his hands too close together) and tying his hair back.

            Then, with a groan, he realized that his bandages were on full display - his shirt only reached the bottom of his ribcage. 

            "For fuck's sake..." He ducked into a closet as an orderly passed by, and found himself drowning in a forest of coats. After a brief tangent in which he wondered how one could drown in a forest, he realized the opportunity he'd been given, and started to feel around. There; that one felt good. He slid it on, feeling it brush against his thighs with a smirk of satisfaction (longcoats were badass) and slipped out again, ready to make a break for the door.

            Ten minutes later, he was outside.

            Will took a deep breath. He hated being locked up anywhere for too long. Even at libraries, he much preferred sitting on the steps with his pile of books - and even then he could only stay still for a few hours at a time. But out here, even in the autumn chill, the air brought back some of his energy.

            He glanced up at the wing where his room had been - then shrugged. It was a _hospital._ Alex would be fine.

* * *

           "What do you mean, he's gone?"

            "I _mean,_ he got out of bed and _left."_ Alex was obviously trying to be diplomatic, but the amount of sarcasm in his voice made it difficult not to be offended.

            "And you didn't do anything?"

            The look Alex gave Jareth wasn't any different than normal. Wooden faces weren't the best at expressions. And yet, somehow, it was enough to make him cringe. "Right. Six inches tall."

            "No, no, you're right, I could have hopped after him and probably gotten stepped on."

            "Enough of your lip, you little bastard," snarled Jareth, probably a bit unfairly, and sat down with a sigh. "Anyway, I'll just tell you. We're currently looking for a host for the two of you - a State Alchemist who will teach you - well, Will, I guess - all he needs to know for the exam."

            "Alright. When is the exam?"

            "Two months."

            "That's not very much time!"

            "It's all you get, unless you want to wait another year." Jareth ran his fingers through his hair, making it spike up even more. "There are three parts to the exam."

            Alex seemed about to voice some new displeasure - Jareth wasn't quite sure why he knew that, just some air about the otherwise expressionless figure - but instead he nodded.

            "First, the written exam. You gotta know your stuff. Then there's an interview, and a practical exam, where you have to show the Fuhrer what you can do. That's it, really." It sounded all very casual when he said it, although he supposed to an eleven-year-old it still sounded pretty terrifying. _You have no idea,_ he thought grimly. Diana had taken the exam almost six years ago, and she still didn't talk about it - although part of that was what it had ultimately led to.

            Alex was silent, and Jareth shifted nervously. He wasn't used to kids on a general basis, let alone ones like Alex. "So what do you like to do?"

            "I dunno. Read?"

            "I can take you to the library if you want."

            Alex lifted his head, and Jareth read it as excitement, but the answer was sullen and a little hurt. "No thanks. I'll stay here."

            "What? Why not? It's not like you need to be here."

            Alex remained stubbornly silent, and Jareth turned it around in his head - and then very nearly smacked himself when he realized. The doll that currently served as Alex's body was smaller than most of the books themselves. There was no way he was going to be able to read properly.

            "I'll help you with the books."

            Now that was _definitely_ a perk. "Really? You will?"

            "Yeah, just don't tell anybody I'm playing nanny."

            He snorted at that. "Don't worry. I won't ruin your reputation."

            "You better not, squirt." He held out his hand. "Coming or not?"

            As Alex jumped into his hand and crawled up to his shoulder, Jareth made a note to himself to talk to Will - chew him out through whatever means necessary. He didn't know the brothers very well yet, but even the few interactions he'd had painted a bit of an unfortunate picture. Will didn't seem to yet understand that Alex was no longer an independent being - _couldn't_ be - and with all the typical stoicism of a preteen boy, would never admit when he needed help. For all that he was supposedly taking the test to find a way to restore Alex, all Jareth could see was a self-centred kid who hadn't realized it was time to grow up.

            With these thoughts, though, came some painful self-awareness. He wasn't always as good to his own sister as he could be - but damn it, at least he _knew_ what she needed! And he certainly wouldn't abandon her in a hospital room.

            "Uh, sir? Are you okay?"

            He jolted back to awareness, and gave Alex his typical grin. "Yeah, I'm fine." He wasn't used to giving a damn about others, but Alex was a good kid. Besides, if Will wasn't doing his job, he'd just have to step in.

* * *

            Will had made one fatal mistake in his great escape from the hospital. 

            He'd never been to Central before.

            "Ugh." He slumped on a bench, burrowing his hands deep in the pockets of his pilfered coat. He quite liked it, actually - it was about mid-thigh, black with white trim and made of something that wasn't quite leather. Fuck if he knew. Only _girls_ understood fabrics.

            One thing he was realizing about Central; it was _big._ Dublith had been fairly large, larger than Rizenbul at least, but it had still been a town. Central was _huge._ And the people! There were people everywhere! He couldn't go two steps without bumping into someone else.

            _I want to go home,_ he thought sulkily, and then resolutely pushed the thought away. He didn't have a home. Not anymore. This was it. This busy, noisy, smelly place was it.

            Not for the first time, he wondered if he'd made the right choice.

            "Hey! Will!"

            "Oh, _shit,"_ he snarled to himself, looking up and perfectly prepared to see either Valjean or Solaris ready to drag him back to the hospital - only to stare into a pair of glasses, shielding a pair of sparkling blue eyes.

            " _Hughes?"_ he asked incredulously, and was answered with a clap on the shoulder. He hid his wince.

            "I was wondering where you had gotten to! Last I heard you were still in the hospital - I guess they let you out early, eh?"

            "Uhm..." Will discreetly pulled his coat closed. "Yeah."

            Hughes sat down next to him with a grin that seemed a bit fake. "So I guess it wasn't too bad, then - Anyway, how about we get a bite to eat? We had a hell of a first meeting."

            Will chuckled, and then shrugged. "Sure, as long as you don't expect me to pay."

            "Nonsense." Hughes gave him another pat on the back, and then practically dragged him along behind him. Will wondered if he was just a little manic. "Oh, have you heard? Gracia's due in another few months! Do you think it'll be a boy or a girl? A boy would be perfect, but a girl would be the light of my life... and I'm going to be a _father,_ can you believe it?"

            This wasn't the same man who had been so calm and collected on the train. Not even _close._ Will let himself be dragged only a little way along before he yanked his hand away.  "What the hell is wrong with you?"

            Hughes turned back and looked at him with an odd expression. "What do you mean?"

            "You're acting like a doped up chipmunk. What do you want from me?"

            The older man's face fell for a brief moment, but lit up again. "So suspicious! Diana's rubbing off on you."

            "I haven't even _seen_ her yet. Busted my ass to get here and she hasn't even shown up. Now get to the _point."_

"I don't want anything except to sit down with you somewhere and treat you to something nice."

            "Yeah? Maybe you could apologize for getting me shot -"

             A pained look crossed Hughes's face. "That's what I'm trying to do."

            Will opened and shut his mouth a few times, before whispering a shamefaced, "Oh." He obligingly kept quiet the rest of the way.

            "Here we are!"

            "...We are?" Will raised his eyebrow, trying to figure out what he was looking at. It was very... poofy-looking.

            "The best Aerugoan cafe in Central. Can't pronounce the name for the life of me but they've got amazing wine."

            "Hughes, I'm twelve."

            "I didn't say _you_ were getting any." Suddenly Hughes was waving, another blisteringly bright grin plastered onto his face. "Wonderful! Looks like one of the other State Alchemists is here. Want to meet them? Thought you would."

            "But -" Before Will could voice a complaint, he was being pulled into the cafe and towards one of the white tables on the patio. Before he could register who exactly he was supposed to be looking at, Hughes had pushed him into a chair and was cheerfully ordering something from the waitress who had popped up out of _nowhere -_

Will rubbed his side, which was starting to ache again, and looked askance at the man sitting across from him. "...Hi." He was practically the definition of nondescript - Will wasn't sure if he'd be able to pick the guy out from a crowd again. Short brown hair, glasses, a bit of stubble, a little on the small side -

            "Good afternoon." The man offered his hand across the table. "Shou Tucker. And you are...?"

            "Erm." Will took his hand awkwardly, trying not to wince as his automail hand came into full view. "Will Elric. Nice to meet you." Much to Tucker's credit, he gave it not much more than a cursory, vaguely shocked glance before shaking it with a warm, if slightly nervous, smile.

            "Daddy, why's his hand shiny?"

            Will froze, and then slid his gaze down and to the side. Peering over the side of the table, unnoticed due to the fact that her head barely cleared the side, was a girl hardly bigger than a minute with her wide eyes fixed on his automail.

            "Ah, I'm sorry - Will, this is my daughter Nina. Nina, sometimes people have to get parts of their body replaced when they have an accident. That's why his arm's shiny, it's a new arm and it's made of metal."

            Hughes, who had been watching Tucker carefully, smiled at that and inclined his head. He seemed to approve of his explanation.

            Will gave Nina a smile, which he hoped didn't come across as too forced, but she was still too fixated on his hand. After a moment, he pulled back his sleeve with a grin. "What do you think?"

            Nina gasped, and then jumped down from her chair to run around the table for a closer look. "Daddy, Daddy, his leg is shiny too!" She looked up at Will, tugging at her braids. "Can I touch it?"

            "Um, I guess? Just don't break anything!" Will tried not to pay attention to her as she poked at his leg. "So, um, Hughes said you were a, uh, State Alchemist -?"

            Tucker nodded, smiling at his daughter's antics. "Sewing Life Alchemist. I suppose you're interested in alchemy, then?"

            "Uh, yeah. I'm gonna take the exam soon."

            Tucker shifted in his seat, his smile dropping and starting to look uncomfortable. "...The State exam?" At Will's nod, his look of consternation grew. "But you can't be more than twelve! I don't know who told you to -"

            He fell suddenly silent with a cough, and Will just managed to catch the warning look Hughes had sent the other man. He was missing something - he just wasn't quite sure _what._

"Will has been quite resourceful so far," interjected Hughes smoothly when he saw that their third wheel had noticed. "I have no doubt that a boy of his talents will have no trouble passing."

            Shou laughed quietly at that, pulling a wry grimace. "I...I have a feeling you've underestimated what we go through to get certified, Major."

            Hughes shrugged with a grin. "Hey, it's not my business what you crazy people get up to! I just clean up the mess."

            ... _Politics,_ seethed Will to himself. _Fucking politics._ Completely unaware of the fact that most grown men would have seen just a simple conversation, he looked down at Nina and poked her head. "So what's your name again? Nina?"

            "Uh huh!"

            "Your daddy's an alchemist?"

            "Uh huh!"

            "Do you want to be one too?"

            Nina screwed up her face, thinking deeply, and then shook her head. "I'm gonna be a princess!"

            _Oh good god. I will never understand girls._ "Why'd you wanna be a princess? All they do is sit around on their a - er, bums all day."

            Of course, that elicited a giggle and a 'he said bums, Daddy!'. However, amidst her giggles, she clambered up his leg, using the bolts in his automail to give her a boost and collapsed in his lap.

            "Nina, no, don't -" Shou got up with an apologetic look, coming around the table and reaching for her. "I'm sorry, Will, she's very affectionate and doesn't always understand what's, um, what's appropriate - Nina, darling, come here -"

            He gathered her into his arms, but she turned and looked at Will with her big blue eyes before asking, "Can Will come over for dinner?" She couldn't quite pronounce the 'll's at the end, making it come out as 'wiw', and he realized she couldn't be more than...three, maybe? Four? He hadn't been around little kids...well...ever, really. Alex didn't count.

            "Sure, if he'd like to." Shou glanced up at Will, eyes bright through his coke-bottle glasses. "Would you? It's been lonely since my wife left with just the two of us and Alexander."

            "I...um..." Will suddenly remembered Alex sitting in the hospital room, waiting for him to come back. "Can I -" He stopped himself, remembering that Alex had to be secret. "I would love to," he ended up saying, mentally wondering what _exactly_ he was signing himself up for.

* * *

            About an hour of tea and little cakes later (and quite delicious little cakes they were too), Hughes made up some excuse about having to go annoy a coworker and they left, Nina waving after them with a pout. 

            They continued on in silence for longer than Will expected, until just when he was starting to get worried about Hughes's lack of garrulousness, the older man gave him a sideways smirk that would have been more at home on Valjean's face. "So what do you think of him?"

            "Of Tucker?" Will shrugged. "He's alright, I guess. I can probably sucker a place to stay out of him."

            "That's good. That's right, you don't have a place to stay, do you?" If Will had been a little older he might have noticed the knowing lilt to Maes's voice or the twinkle in his eye; as it was, he just shrugged, staring at the ground. His side was hurting again - just a dull little ache, but enough to make him grumpier than usual. He _really_ didn't like pain.

            "...No. But I'll find one. I can take care of myself."

            "I'll take your word for it. Now -" Maes reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet, out of which fell a stream of photos, all encased in plastic. "Isn't my Gracia just _darling_ in pink?"

* * *

            The hunger had come again. As usual, he tried to ignore it, but it clawed at him, screamed inside his brain, wailed until he was curled up in a ball from the pain of resisting it. 

            Eventually, as he always did, he broke down. But not completely. He liked to think he had a...a _deal_ with the beast. A compromise. He passed through the crowds, shutting off his mind from recognizing the people around him, soft sacks of flesh and blood and meat and _it was invading his thoughts peace tranquility remember the way remember what your teacher taught you_

Through the streets of Central. Down, down, down into the dark depths of the dingy city where the beggars and whores crawled, down down down where Ishvala's light could not shine (not that it could in this godforsaken city), and curled up in a ball of rags was his chosen target, covered in scabs and the scars of lost battles. He took his hand, led him (all-deaf, half-blind) down to where they were unseen

            and his stomach opened up, and he fed the beast.


	14. Angels/Losing/Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: hospitals/injury, mild violence, misogynistic slurs
> 
> Song by Our Lady Peace.

~13~ 

_Even the angels are losing sleep_

_And the sidewalks are bare_

_It's like the calm before the storm..._

**_-Angels/Losing/Sleep_ **

 

            Diana surveyed the nurse in front of her, red lips tight and thin as the poor girl, hardly more than twenty, quaked in front of her. "Nurse..." she surreptitiously checked her name tag, " _Assistant_ Nurse Shockley," she corrected in a scathing tone, "who is supposed to be in this bed?"

            Shockley could barely get her mouth open, she was shaking so much. "W-Will-Will'm E-E-Elric, ma-ma'am - er - s-sir - ma'am -"

            Diana lifted her arm fast enough to make the nurse flinch, pointing sharply at the conspicuously empty hospital bed. " _Is he in this bed?"_

Looking about ready to wet her pants from terror, Shockley whimpered and shook her head.

            Diana was about to continue, and then envisioned the mess she'd potentially make and decided she'd had her fun. "Alright, take a deep breath," she said in a much calmer voice, although there was still a vein going in her throat. "When did you last check on him?"

            "I - I - I -" Shockley gulped. "Two...two hours ago...miss...ma'am...sir..."

            "Two hours? What were you doing, playing pinochle?"

"Th-the rounds, ma'am! Mary called in sick and so I had to do hers too, and he was twelve and he shouldn't have been able to _move_ with an abdominal wound since he's so small -"

            "Alright, alright, that's enough." Diana waited a few moments, praying that her hapless victim wouldn't collapse into hysterics. "Did you notice anybody else coming or going around this corridor?"

            "Um...Oh! Your, um, adjutant was here earlier..." Diana had to keep from rolling her eyes at the nurse's sudden blush. She was young; clearly Jareth hadn't gotten to her yet. "He didn't stay very long though - he left about an hour ago. He's here a lot, actually...I wonder why?"

         Diana eyed Shockley's standard-issue nurses' uniform. "I wonder why, indeed," she said wryly.

         She dismissed her with a wave of her hand, and then sat down beside the vacant bed. _Jareth was here, so either he saw that the Elric boy was gone or he slipped out after Jareth left. And the little one is gone too..._ She'd wager the brothers were together, but considering Jareth's noticeable lack of a report - which she was going to take him to task for later - Alex could just as easily be with him. Or, harder to swallow, they were all together, although if that was the case she'd have to send him for a mandatory psych exam.

         Either way, there wasn't much she could do. She wasn't Will's guardian or his commanding officer, so she didn't have any jurisdiction, and he could be anywhere. Except... _He's not going to miss out on that State Alchemist exam. He'll be back...eventually._

Trouble is, eventually never seemed to come fast enough.

* * *

         It was about half an hour later when a knock finally sounded at her office door. "Who is it?" she asked, trying not to sound too excited as she put down the pen she'd been idly twirling. 

         "Er, Havoc, ma'am," came the hesitant reply. He opened the door, cigarette hanging from his lips - she gave him a look, and he quickly pulled it away, giving her a sheepish grin. She returned it despite herself, before remembering that she had a job to do.

         "What's the matter?"

         "Oh, uh, Major Hughes is here to see you."

         "...And you're keeping him outside?"

         "Um, he's...got somebody else with him. And they're..." Havoc coughed, although it seemed like he was covering up a laugh. "...not co-operating."

         Diana's eyebrows flew upwards at that, and she rose to her feet. "Who is it?"

         "According to Hughes..." Havoc turned red, grinning even more widely, "Your problem." He held up his hands instantly, flinching a little - but Diana ignored him, sweeping past and into the main office where the others were gathered.

         "- _YOU SAID WE WERE GOING TO YOUR OFFICE -"_

"I lied, get used to it. Now will you _please_ just -"

         Will strained uselessly against Hughes's grip on his collar, scowling blackly. "I don't _want_ to fuckin' see her, got it? I can take care of myself!"

         Hughes glanced up at Diana, giving her a despairing look. She could read it well enough, but she happened to disagree.

         "Mr. Elric, I presume?" she said smoothly, and Will's head jerked up towards her.

         "Oh, it's _you,"_ he grouched, crossing his arms and putting on a magnificent sulk.

         She strode across the room - and rapped him sharply across the knuckles. " _Ow!_ What was _that_ for?"

         "A State Alchemist is a soldier. If you want to become one, you'll need to learn how to respect your superiors."

         He glowered silently.

         "As in, a salute. Or at the very least, some modicum of politeness."

         He glowered some more...and then slumped, still scowling. "You can let go now," he mumbled to Hughes. "I won't run away."

         Hughes released his grip on Will's collar. "I have to say, I wasn't expecting to have to manhandle you."

         Diana considered pushing for a salute, and then decided to let it go for the time being. "Is spending time with me really such a terrifying proposition?"

         "I don't like it when people boss me around. That's basically your entire job!"

         She couldn't help a small snicker, but swallowed it. "You're going to have to get used to taking orders."

         "Oh, _bleh."_

"For example, Elric - in my office. _Now."_

"Alright, _alright!"_ He stomped a few metres towards the door to her office, and then stopped, a strange look crossing his face. Diana averted her eyes, pretending she hadn't heard the heavy 'thunk' of metal on the hardwood. After a moment, he walked the rest of the way, more quietly and carefully than before. She followed him, and closed the door behind her.

         "So," she said as lightheartedly as she could manage. Any leftover humour from the initial scene had faded away once she was faced with the reality of the boy in front of her - and looking at him properly for the first time, it was hard to avoid staring a little at the automail that was shown off so flagrantly, even as Will tried to hide its sound.

         "So what?" he snarled, throwing himself down on her black leather sofa. "You're the boss. Chew me out or something. I don't care."

         "I'm not your enemy, Will." She moved across the room, perching herself on her desk. He watched curiously, and then looked away with another growl when she noticed. "But I'm the closest thing you have to a guardian right now, so I suggest you listen."

         Will didn't reply, but she could see how he tensed up at the reminder of his age - and relaxed an inch, as a non-verbal cue that he wasn't completely ignoring her. It was funny how easy he was to read, especially after so many years of deciphering the subtle clues of military men.

         "What you did was stupid."

         "I know," he muttered. "But it's not like I'm bleeding out over here so I don't see why -"

         "Taking on a group of terrorists, alone? You're lucky you weren't being carried out of there in several small pieces."

         "Yeah, but I was _fine -"_

"And next time you might not be. If you're going to commit yourself to something as difficult as restoring your and your brother's bodies, you have to not die along the way."

         "H-how did you -?"

         "You've forgotten, haven't you? I was the one who gave you the idea." Diana inspected her nails. "So that's why you're going to pass the State Alchemist exam, and request me for your CO."

         "I - what?" Will's head snapped towards her with a completely nonplussed expression.

         "You heard me. I'll give you as much time as you need to chase down leads, as long as you're back here to do missions for me."

         Will blinked, his cheeks reddening, although he didn't seem to be aware of it. But he wasn't quite done being distrustful - " _What_ leads?"

         "That's up to you. I wouldn't know where to start - but if Hughes took you to lunch with Tucker like he was supposed to, then maybe that's your first chance."

         "He - I - you scheming _bitch_!"

         "You can't stay in the hospital forever and Tucker's a good alchemist."

         "How did you - I -" With a groan, Will sank even deeper into the couch. "You military people are fucked up."

         "You'll learn eventually." She steepled her fingers, trying to hide her satisfied smirk. “I don’t know how much of this was covered at lunch. Do you know _why_ I set you up with Tucker?”

         “No, why?”

         “He’s the Sewing Life Alchemist. He was accepted two years ago, when he created a chimera – an alchemically-created animal – that could talk.”

         “ _Really?_ ” Will sat up at that, the genius winning out over the sulky pre-teen. “Like, properly talk? What did it say?”

         Diana sighed at that. “Not much. In fact it said only thing –‘I want to die’. It then refused to eat and starved to death shortly afterwards.”

         Stunned, Will collapsed backwards again. “That’s…morbid.”

         “He hasn’t yet been able to duplicate his success, but he’s still considered a leader in the area of chimera research. Hence why he may be able to help you with your goals, since there’s a biological tie. He’s also the youngest State Alchemist currently on roster.”

         Will couldn’t help but laugh. “And he has a four-year-old daughter. I’m closer in age to his daughter than him.” He paused. “So is there a wife I’m gonna have to be nice to?”

         “Not currently, although I’d avoid the subject. They separated a few years ago.”

         Will pulled a face at that. “Oh, so she ran off.”

         Diana wasn’t sure it was that simple. But she kept her worries to herself.

* * *

         While Will and the Lieutenant-Colonel were engaged in their less-than-professional catfight, their counterparts were engaged in a far more calming and cooperative activity - namely, reading. More specifically, Jareth was holding a book upright on the table trying to look inconspicuous while Alex hung out of his half-undone jacket, completely immersed in the book. Of course, after the first ten minutes, Jareth's curiosity had led him to start reading along with the tiny prodigy...with predictable results.

         "Turn the page! I'm already done!" Alex whined as quietly as he could managed.

         Trying to speak without actually moving his mouth, Jareth retorted, "Slow down, midget. I'm trying to read."

         "You read _slow,"_ Alex muttered, tapping his wooden hands against the closest button. Jareth reached up and flicked his head.

         "Stop that, brat. I'm nearly done." Despite himself, he said it with the curve of a smile on his face. "I'm doing pretty good for someone who only learned to read, like, ten years ago."

         "Ten years is pretty good!"

         "Not when you're my age, squirt."

         "Oh right, you're _old."_ Alex paused. "Didn't your mum teach you how to read?"

         Jareth tensed slightly at that. "...No. Wasn't a priority," he mumbled. He wasn't used to people asking things like that straight-up. "I'm done now, by the way." He flipped the page, hoping it would distract Alex from any further inquiries. And it did...at least until Alex finished, well ahead of him again, and tugged on his shirt.

         "What _now?"_ he snapped, more angrily than he'd meant to.

         "...Sorry. I just...um..." Alex hesitated, face not quite turned towards him, and then he looked back to the book. "...Are you done yet?"

         He half-smiled. "Not yet. Gimme a bit." He couldn't read that immobile face, but he could read the way Alex shrunk down in his jacket, grasping the material as best he could.

         Their quiet camaraderie was interrupted by the tap of shoes against the hardwood floor. Jareth quickly pulled the book towards himself, pushing Alex unceremoniously down his jacket to fall a little uncomfortably somewhere around his stomach. "Um...yes?"

         She stammered, clearly a little taken aback at his prompt reply. She was a cute one, Jareth noted - a little plain, with a mess of brown hair and round glasses, but her eyes were large and green, and her body _certainly_ wasn't concealed by the overlarge sweater she wore. "A-are you Lieutenant Valjean, sir?"

         "Oh, so you've heard of me." He smirked at her, and was rewarded with the sight of her cheeks flashing red before she steadfastly stared at her feet.

         "There's...there's a call for you at the front desk...sir..."

         "Oh, okay." Jareth got to his feet, briefly glancing down and reassured by the sight of Alex burrowing into his little-used inside pocket. Honestly, he'd forgotten it was even there. "Any chance I can get your number?"

         The librarian's reaction was his favourite yet that day. She positively shrank into her sweater, looking ready to start steaming as her face glowed. "Muh..."

         "Maybe later, then," he chuckled as he headed to the front desk, grabbing the phone and pressing it to his ear. "Lieutenant Valjean here."

         " _About time you picked up. Get back here."_

"What, you been calling the whole damn city or something?"

         _"Something like that."_ Breda sounded distinctly peeved, which was unusual for him. He was a good-humoured kind of man, and Jareth winced to think of how many places he must have contacted _before_ the library. He wasn't exactly known to be the bookish type.

         "I'll be back in a little bit. Tell the boss-lady not to worry."

         _"Is the little one with you?"_

"Yeah, yeah, no worries. Now go do some paperwork, I don't wanna do that shit."

         Breda spluttered, and then chuckled sardonically. " _Yes, sir. I'll let Havoc know."_

Jareth hung up, shaking his head - and then looked up to see the various other librarians looking askance at him. He bared his teeth, and they quickly went back to work.

         Giving the bulge in his jacket that was Alex a pat that was meant to be comforting, he mumbled as to himself, "Back we go to the office...where the brat _hopefully_ is..." Ok, maybe he wasn't the best at comforting.

         "Better hurry, or he'll run off again," was the quiet reply, with a bit more hurt in it than Jareth had expected.

* * *

         The rest transpired just about as Solaris had expected; after wrangling a grudging agreement from Will to request her as a CO and reuniting him with his understandably-peeved brother, the both of them headed off to Tucker's for dinner. Will was still stomping a bit, but he seemed to have understood that acting like a brat wasn't going to accomplish anything. 

         Diana sighed, slumping onto the sofa Will had so recently vacated. Jareth sat down next to her, taking advantage of the rare moment of privacy to swing his arm around her shoulders. "Did he really call you a scheming bitch?" He chuckled at her nod. "Perceptive of him."

         She gave him a light shove, but it was halfhearted. "...Do you think we're doing the right thing?"

         She expected a usual chipper answer from Jareth, but instead, he looked troubled. "Honestly, Di? I'm not sure."

         "What changed?"

         "The kid taking off on his brother like that. I just...You don't do that to people you're responsible for."

         "He's twelve. He'll learn."

         Jareth grimaced. "Fast enough? Alex can't defend himself at all - he's made of _wood,_ for chrissakes. Somebody flicks a cinder the wrong way, he's dead -"

         "Jareth, they'll be fine." She was saying it more to reassure herself at this point, but she could feel regret coiling in her stomach.

         "I hope so," he muttered. He clearly wasn't convinced - and neither was Diana.

         About two hours later, she got the call from Tucker, confirming that Will and Alex were indeed going to live with him, while they studied for the exam. Everything was going according to plan.

* * *

And two weeks later, her gloved hands remarkably still in front of her even as the rest of her body almost imperceptibly shook, she wondered how things had gone so horribly, terribly wrong.


	15. It's The Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Within Temptation
> 
> Trigger warning: unreality/nightmares, PTSD

~15~

_Hold down your head now,_

_Just let me pass by_

_Don’t feed my fear_

_If you don’t want it out_

_Long ago, it came to me_

_And ever since that day_

_Infected with its rage_

**_-It’s the Fear_ **

_“Back again?”_

_It was a voice without a sound. It was the sound of the void. It was the face beneath everyone’s skin, grinning and burrowing its way deeper and deeper._

_Will didn’t have to turn around. He stood with his back resolutely to the Gate and its guardian. “No.”_

_“No?” The voice cackled again. Will could feel the dark tendrils that battered against the other side of the momentous door. Why wouldn’t he? This wasn’t the Gate, this was –_

“my body”

_-his mind, his dream, his nightmare. Will turned slowly around, hearing the click of metal against the ground but looking down and seeing only flesh. That was the sound that haunted him; the clicks and the whirrs and creaks that broke the self-deception that he was still fully human._

_Except this time, the formless, featureless thing that called itself Truth was… not._

_Will felt the lump rise in his throat, too solid and present to simply be part of the dream. “Alex…”_

_The Not-Truth cocked its head. A fall of dark-brown hair fell over its face – a face with his mother’s cheekbones, with gleaming dark-gold eyes, with a mouth full of baby teeth and sharp canines –_

_“Stop it,” said Will weakly. “I don’t want to see him.”_

_“No?” The Alex that was not real – not real, just a figment of his mind, was_

“not real”

_pouting. “I thought you loved me, big brother.”_

_Will knew it was a dream, he knew beyond all doubt, but still he covered his face. “I – I can’t –“ He swallowed, again and again._

_“Too ashamed? Too humiliated? Too guilty?”_

_Will’s hands fell away of their own accord. The Alex-that-was-not was smiling wickedly, exposing a set of teeth too big for the ten-year-old’s mouth. The insistent hammering of the tendrils resumed, louder and louder._

_Then the Gate broke open, and all that Will could see was the great eye in the center of its infinite blackness, holding his gaze and drawing him in and in, closer and deeper into oblivion…_

* * *

It took a moment for Will to realize he was awake and not just drowning in the blackness of Beyond-the-Gate. Still, he wasn’t completely convinced until the lamp by the side of his bed flickered on.

“Will?” It was Alex’s voice, shy and afraid. “I – I – are you okay?”

Will couldn’t respond. He could barely breathe through the thick fog that seemed to fill his throat. He couldn’t even look at Alex. As much as it had pained him to see Alex’s face, his true face, it hurt almost as much to look at what he had made his brother into.

His heart wouldn’t stop racing.

There was the sudden sound of footsteps outside the door. Will saw Alex dive under the pillow just as the door opened.

“Are you alright?” asked Shou, his voice full of nothing but concern. Will belately realized there were tears streaming down his face.

“I – I –“ He tried to force out the words ‘I’m fine’ but they wouldn’t come. Shou pushed his way through the door, put down the lantern he held in one hand and sat on the edge of Will’s bed.

“Was it a nightmare?” he asked, and Will slowly nodded. He wanted to tell Shou to go away, but he could still feel the Gate’s tendrils reaching for him, devouring him, and he shivered at the thought of turning the light out again.

Shou reached out for him, and stopped briefly until Will gave him no sign of drawing away. Then he rubbed Will’s shoulder, and asked again, in his quiet, unassuming voice, “Would you like some tea?”

“Tea?” echoed Will hollowly. He wasn’t sure what tea had to do with anything.

Shou smiled. “My…my wife had a terrible time with nightmares and panic attacks. We have a tea downstairs that helps.” He turned to get up, and then he and Will both noticed Nina in the doorway.

Will hurriedly wiped his face, hoping she hadn’t seen. Shou quickly gathered Nina into his arms, but she looked over his shoulder at Will. “Can I make the tea, Daddy?”

“Do you think you can do it on your own?”

“Mm-hmm!” Nina waved at Will. “I’ll make you better!”

Shou laughed, and put her down, giving her a pat on the back. “Come get me if you need any help, ok?” She ran off, pigtails flying behind her and her nightgown flapping around her ankles.

Will snorted. “Make me better? Unless she’s got an extra limb or two lying around then I doubt she can do much.”

“Trust me, the tea will help. Do you want to talk about it?”

Will thought for a moment. He shook his head again. “If – if that’s alright. Didn’t mean to wake you. You really don’t have to go to any trouble or anything –“

“Nonsense. You’re staying in my home, I’m currently your guardian, it’s no bother at all.”

“I just – um –“ Will shivered, and shook his head again.

Shou sat down on the bed again. “Here’s a trick I learned a few years ago. Want me to show it to you?”

Will hesitated, closed his eyes for a moment – and then snapped them back open to avoid the image of the Alex-that-was-not branded into his eyelids. Slowly, hesitantly, he nodded.

* * *

“Don’t give me excuses, Basque. You were supposed to have a sacrifice for us two _years_ ago.” The man in front of the General folded his arms, eyes glinting dangerously. “You know how I feel about people who make promises they can’t keep.”

“Don’t worry. He’s starting to crack.”

“You said that two years ago.” The man’s hand snaked out and grabbed Basque’s  collar, slamming it down onto the table, smiling at the sound of the man’s bald head cracking on the table. “You have five days.”

Not waiting for Basque to recover, the man strolled away, slowly blending in with the crowd. No one would notice him. They never did.

* * *

Diana wasn’t looking forward to this visit. She liked Shou Tucker well enough, and she thought his daughter Nina and her pet were quite cute in their own right. Even Alex was an intelligent, precocious young man.

No, it was Will she still couldn’t stand. On one hand, she appreciated what he’d been through. On the other hand…  Well, he was Will. He was also a twelve-year-old boy. Their little ‘chat’ had gotten some things through his head, but she had to chalk at least some of it up to his personality. Still, business was business.

She got out of the car and straightened her uniform – only to be nearly knocked over by someone else. She steadied herself, ready to deliver a sharp word, and bit her tongue when she recognized them.

“B-Brigadier General! I didn’t expect to see you here –“ But he was gone before she’d even finished his title.

 _Strange._ Diana made a note to herself to investigate what a Brigadier-General was doing at the house of a talented but ultimately sub-par alchemist. She headed for the door, pausing at the sound of Alexander’s barking. He was outside, tied to a pole in the yard.

She blinked, a sense of unease rising in her chest. She’d never seen Alexander leashed outside before. It probably wasn’t anything of great import – she and Tucker weren’t close, and the handful of times she’d actually met the dog didn’t have much bearing on how much time he actually spent outside. Still, it didn’t sit right with her, and she wasn’t even a dog person.

The door opened, and Shou gave her an embarrassed smile. “Oh, Colonel! I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Or…” He checked his watch and grimaced. “Perhaps t-time got away from me a little bit. Come in, come in.”

“No worries. You were clearly busy. Is Elric awake?”

The answer came in the form of something striking her on the head, and a mocking voice calling out, “Take a wild guess, bossyface!“ followed by a mischievous giggle.

Shou’s face paled, and he and Diana looked up at the same time. Will blew a raspberry out of the window, dangling his other shoe threateningly as Nina hid her face behind her pigtails. Much to her irritation, Diana could even see Alex peeking over Will’s shoulder, although she obviously couldn’t tell whether he was contrite or not.

She glanced at Shou, who seemed ready to collapse with embarrassment. It was quite nice to see how he seemed to have taken on Will as his responsibility. If only the men on her team showed that amount of obligation.

Diana cupped a gloved (white and unmarked) hand to her mouth and shouted up, “What are you, twelve?”

Will blinked. It clearly wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. Then he grinned. “Uh, yeah? Besides, you’re not my boss yet!”

“Awfully optimistic of you. Come downstairs and show me how warranted that is.”

Still grinning, Will disappeared from the window, Nina following him. Diana shook her head, smiling softly, and then waved her hand reassuringly at Shou as she entered the house. The minute the blond terror appeared at the foot of the stairs, looking rather like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar, Diana reached forward and gripped his ear between two fingers.

“Ow ow ow OW OW OW OW you COWWWW -”

“Pull a stunt like that again,” she said smoothly, with only the slightest hint of a smirk on her face and a teasing note in her voice, “and I’ll transmute your spine into non-Euclidean geometry.”

“I hate you! Leggo of me!”

“Keep your shoes to yourself.”

* * *

A few hours later, Diana was struggling to keep her demure demeanour as Jareth cackled, leaning back in his chair and clutching his stomach.

“I can’t _believe –_ he could have _killed_ you, Di –“ Despite the seriousness of his words, Jareth couldn’t stop guffawing.

“Oh, I highly doubt it. I don’t think he has any control over what he did in the train, and besides, I’m faster than him.”

Jareth shook his head, and took a swig of his drink. “So I take it you’re… semi-adopting him.”

It was her turn to splutter. “No. Not in the _least._ I’m dreading spending any more time with the brat than I have to.”

“Which is why you boxed his ears.”

“I didn’t box them, I twisted them. Semantics.”

Jareth waved a hand. “You and your fancy words.”

Diana sipped her cocktail. “Perhaps he can learn. You did, after all.”

He snorted at that, but then a thoughtful look appeared on his face. “That’s true. Want me to help with him? I mean, no offense, Di, but you’re a bit straight-laced –“ He stopped when she snorted, stifling giggles. “Ok, not straight-laced. But, I might be able to relate a bit more.”

Diana shook her head. “I have him well in hand. Besides, I thought you hated him?”

“ _Everybody_ hates pre-teens. Doesn’t mean they don’t need help.”

“He needs structure more than anything else. Don’t worry. If I need your help, you’ll be the first to know.”

He shrugged. “Well, alright. If you say so.” He tried to hide his smirk, but she smacked him on the shoulder.

“Stop it, I _know_ you’re just trying to one-up me!”

He held up his hands in supplication. “Wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t, babe.”

“Maybe I _should_ let you take care of Elric. The two of you deserve each other.”

She conveniently left out the part where she’d thrown up in Tucker’s bathroom afterwards, trying to scrub her hands clean of the uncomfortable feeling that had come back after Will’s makeshift weapon had hit her. As far as everyone else was concerned, Ishval was long over.

* * *

Will was perfectly happy for the first time in a long time. He’d found a book that was not only fascinating but had exactly the kind of lead he needed, and he was already near the end, sitting on Tucker’s steps with the sun beaming down on his head and Alexander dozing by his feet. He’d been nervous around the dog at first, since he was so much bigger than Den, but he was a sweetheart. Will leant down and gave Alexander an absent-minded rub between the ears, smiling when Alexander rumbled in pleasure.

He finished the last page of the book with a contented sigh, leaning back against the door. A second later, it opened behind him, and he flopped onto his back with a wince.

“…Mr. Tucker?” Shou was glaring down at him, glasses opaque and his expression hard to read. “Something wrong?”

“Get inside.”

Will did so, tucking his book under his arm and trying to pretend his heart wasn’t beating a tattoo against his chest. He closed the door behind him, letting Alexander sneak through first.

“D-did I do something?” he asked, his voice shaking a bit. He _liked_ Mr. Tucker. He didn’t boss him around, he didn’t act like he knew better than him, and most importantly, he was there when Will needed him, unlike a certain bastard he could name.

Shou silently walked into the kitchen. Will followed him, wiping his sweaty palms on his skirt.

Alex was sitting on the kitchen table, leaning on the salt and pepper shakers.

The first thing that popped into Will’s head was what they’d used on Hakuro. “Oh, that’s a – a project of mine – um –“

“Sorry, Brother,” came Alex’s characteristically hollow voice, and the doll rubbed his head in a gesture made awkward by his lack of fingers. “He saw me playing with Nina. He knows I’m…er…”

“Complicated?” said Will sardonically.

“That’s certainly one way to put it,” said Shou, sounding troubled. He sat down, motioning Will to do the same across from him. “When I invited you into my home, I did so with all my cards on the table. Shouldn’t you also show me yours? After all, that’s what we alchemists do.”

“Equivalent exchange,” muttered Will. “Son of a bitch.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing, nothing,” corrected Will quickly. He sighed, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. _He’s going to throw us out. He’s going to report us. He’s going to call us scum and idiots and fools and he’ll chuck us out and I won’t be able to take the exam and Alex is going to be trapped like this forever…_ He suddenly felt the weight of his arm and leg, dragging him down into the floor, iron weights pulling him down into the waiting arms of the Gate –

He leant his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together, hair falling in front of him in a free-flowing curtain. He could dimly hear Alex begin to speak, although the words went in and out of focus. 

“It was a mistake. We just…wanted to see her smile again. We thought we knew better. We thought it would work.”

After a few minutes, it was silent again. It dragged on…and on. Will winced, waiting for the diatribe that never came. He glanced up through his hair, still waiting.

Alex was waiting too, head turned towards Shou. Finally, Shou inclined his head, lacing his fingers on the table. “…I see. Your mother…” His words trickled off. “That must have been painful. I –“

“We were just _kids!_ ” Will burst out suddenly, slamming his hands against the table. One made a soft bang, the other clinked and rattled. His stomach churned.

Shou jerked backwards in surprise. Will looked down, and pulled his hands away in horror as the table fell away from in front of him, into a pile of scattered ash and coal.

He slowly raised his head to look at Shou. There was fear in the older man’s eyes, and something else as well.


	16. The Carnival Is Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Dead Can Dance
> 
> Trigger warning: parental abandonment

~16~

_Reach up and kiss the sky_

_They are driven by a strange desire_

_Unseen by the human eye_

_- **The Carnival is Over**_

                Izumi usually knew who to expect trouble from. It was true of almost any group of kids that a troublemaker would emerge, as well as the jokester, the determined one, the bookworm, etc. She’d certainly seen those patterns in the children around town.

                So while she’d expected a question at _some_ point about her unique style of alchemy, she hadn’t expected it to be Alex standing up and bracing himself for a blow.

                “How do you _do_ that?” he asked again, pushing his hair back from his face once again. It was a thick, unmanageable bronze mess made even puffier by the heat, and Izumi resisted the urge to run her hands through it and tame it into some semblance of order. _These are not your children,_ she reminded herself.

                “I’ll tell you someday.”

                “But it doesn’t make any _sense!_ ” Alex complained. “Where’s the energy coming from? Where are the instructions? How isn’t it burning you up – never mind that, without the circle you can’t even _unlock_ it!”

                Will yawned lazily, stretching his arms out and leaning back on the lawn like a housecat in the sun. “Alex, it doesn’t _matter._ Can we have lunch already?”

                “Not until Master explains it!”

                Izumi sighed and rolled her eyes. “Alchemy’s not always that simple, Alex. Some things are more complicated – but, right now it’s too complicated for you.” She almost regretted that after the indignant look on his face, and the laugh it elicited from Will.

                The blond plucked a blade of grass and started chewing on it, stomach exposed to the sun as he kicked his legs in the air. “Some things just _work._ Don’t overthink it.”

                “You’re supposed to be a _scientist!_ ”

                “Well, yeah. Astronomy’s science, too. Doesn’t mean we know why the stars move the way they do, yet.”

                Alex seemed satisfied at that, visibly relaxing. “We will _eventually,_ though,” he said, unwilling to be left without the last word. “Did you know they’re working on an observatory up in Creta –“

                Izumi interrupted. “Come on, boys. Time for some food.”

 

* * *

 

TWO YEARS LATER

                “How did you do that?”

                “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t _know!_ ” Will’s voice rose with each repetition and he pulled at his hair. “I-it’s the same thing I did before, but I don’t know what it _is_ – I – I –“

                Alex got to his feet and stumbled out of the pile of ash, brushing himself off and checking his blood seal. “I know what it is.” He rolled his eyes when both of them ignored him, Shou too busy staring at Will with his mouth hanging open and Will, well…freaking out in a very characteristic way. “Hey! Both of you!” he yelled as loud as he could. _Good. That got their attention._

He stepped a little farther out, uncomfortably aware that Shou wasn’t exactly used to taking orders from a doll. “Will, you _have_ seen this before.”

                “Yeah, on the train, but that was an –“

                “No, _before_ that.” Alex waited for some form of recognition to dawn on Will’s face. When it failed to appear, he smacked his face in frustration. “Master could do it, remember?”

                _Finally_ Will realized, looking a little like Alex had smacked _him_ in the face. “Oh. Oh!” He looked at his hands, then at Alex, and then back at his hands. “…I’m confused.”

                Alex clambered and slipped across the ash towards Will. “Okay, try this. Every time this has happened, you put your hands together. Try that and see if you can put the table back together.”

                Will frowned, and tried it, putting his palms cautiously together as if he was triggering an explosive – and his face lit up. “Holy _shit,_ it makes sense now! I just had to – I –“

                “Let me guess,” said Alex teasingly, “When you’re not in a panic, it’s easier.”

                Will had the temerity to look a little sheepish. He concentrated, eyes glazing over briefly, then he touched the pile of ashes that had been Shou’s table. It glowed, twisting up and around, before settling back into a fairly reasonable facsimile of what it had been before.

                “Um, is that better?” He smiled awkwardly up at Shou, who hadn’t moved since the table had collapsed.

                Shou leant his elbows on the table, then his hands, feeling around. Alex guessed he was testing the durability of it. It was a little insulting, but to be fair, Shou hadn’t ever seen a circle-less transmutation before, and Will had never _done_ a proper one before. Actually…Alex realized he hadn’t seen his brother do a proper transmutation for over a year.

                If he could have, he would have smiled until his face hurt.

                Shou finally finished his inspection. “Well,” he said finally, “you’re certainly out of practice with transmutation.”

                Will let out a sound somewhere between a squeak and a growl. “Are you _kidding_ me, old man? I just fixed your fucking table without even a circle and you’re telling me I’m out of practice?”

                “Well, you _are._ ”

                “No one asked you, brat,” muttered Will, but he leant down and lifted Alex up onto the newly reconstructed table. “Get up here.”

                Shou adjusted his glasses. “You’re out of practice, _and_ you can’t start transmuting things randomly whenever you get upset. So, I’ll be getting you to practice every day.”

                “ _What?_ ”

                “You came here to study for the exam, didn’t you?” Shou gave Will another searching, inscrutable look. “My boy, this is exactly what you need.”

* * *

               It was the day before the State Alchemists’ Exam was due to begin, and three days after her visit to the Tucker residence and what she now dubbed ‘The Shoe Incident’. (Uncreative, perhaps, but she was an officer, not a writer.) She’d popped in a few times since, but she’d had other things to worry about – other State Alchemist applications, military academy graduates requesting to serve under her (Jareth had made some rather raunchy jokes about that, until she’d threatened to court-martial him) and, most worryingly, some rather overt hints from an unhappy Hakuro that she might be sent back to East City.

                All that in three days.

                Maybe she should just be a writer.

                “Can I get you something to drink, Colonel?” She glanced up briefly, and then shook her head, cradling her head in her hands again.

                “Thanks for the offer,” she muttered. Tucker slid into the chair next to her, smiling at the sound of Will stampeding down the stairs.

                “He’s quite excited,” he murmured, a hint of pride in his voice.

                “If he’s excited about the exam, I pity him. If he’s excited about another chance to harass me, then I’ll toast him before he gets the chance.” Diana knew she was sounding cranky, but she didn’t care. “Actually, Major, if you don’t mind, I changed my mind. I’d like some coffee,” she said, just as Will catapulted himself into the room and launched himself onto a backwards chair, rubbing his hands together delightedly.

                “None for him,” she added with a smirk. “He’s _clearly_ had enough.”

                Will stuck out his tongue, and Alex appeared from his shoulder, where he’d been hiding behind his brother’s hair. He hopped down onto the table, and gave Diana a clumsy salute.

                Diana returned it with a laugh. “You don’t need to do that. You’re not a soldier.”

               “No, Colonel, but you’ve been pretty good to us, and if Will’s not going to show you respect, I’m going to have to make up for it.”

              “Oh dear.” Diana looked up at Will, eyebrow raised. “I suppose you have some grand show of power planned that’s meant to embarrass me.”

               “Not at all!” Will actually sounded surprisingly sincere. Diana didn’t trust it at all. “Want me to show you?” There was that grin again, but she recognized this glow – this triumphant, exhausted look. Of course, she associated it with a few more burn marks than she would have liked, but it was the same expression.

               She sat back and folded her arms across her chest. “Go ahead, then. Impress me.”

              Will returned her look, gold eyes blazing with determination, before he clapped his hands together (like a boy in prayer, Diana had time to muse) and placed them delicately around a glass of water. In his hands, the glass seemed to melt, and then in a shower of red sparks, it shot upwards, then formed itself into a perfectly transparent glass tree, crooked and twisted just like the old oaks of the Amestrian countryside.

              She forgot to breathe for a moment. She was used to alchemy. This was _art._ And there was more to it than met the eye – the reason it was so much bigger than the glass (almost the size of a small child) was that it was hollow. The water from inside the glass was dripping from its insides and splashing in a small pool at the base of its trunk.

              He wasn’t done. With another clap, he brought the tree back down, and suddenly the table was twisting as well. She was aware of Shou rolling his eyes (when she heard later what that table had been through, she wasn’t surprised) but she kept her eyes on the tabletop.

             The glass spread across the surface, fusing with the wood – and underneath it, tiny quartz outcroppings turned into buildings, shiny pieces of metal emerged from the glass and turned into reflective rivers, the dark-stained wood took on green shades in some places and grey in others, and little stones – composites of the grains that made it into any glass, Diana realized – built themselves up into miniscule mountains.

              She was looking at a map of Amestris.

             Diana lowered her head over the table. Here, in the east – that was Ishval, the sand of the glass finely spread over a layer of wood. Here were the Briggs Mountains, imposing even on such a tiny scale, although they were surprisingly bare.

             “This is…”

             “Sorry it’s not a bit more accurate.” Will shrugged, and she looked up in shock. “I turned some of the silicon in the sand into the rivers, half the sand is the desert, and then the rest of the sand is the glass on top. The blue and the green are the dyes from the glass, the stones are residue from the sand and the wood, but there wasn’t anything to use for snow.”

            “Do you know how much this would _sell_ for?”

            Will scowled. “Don’t taint my talent with money!” He snorted. “It can’t stay like this, anyway. I couldn’t figure out a safe way to get rid of all the excess oxygen from the silica.”

            “Really?”

           “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not good with gases, and Mr. Tucker’s specialty is biological alchemy on a big scale.”

            Diana’s only response was to pull one of her gloves from her pocket. “Then let me show you a trick or two.”

            Will watched with badly-concealed interest as she drew a circle on the glass and coaxed out the excess oxygen, blending it with the rest of the air. “So that glove of yours isn’t just for lighting fire?”

           “No, no. Fire’s actually the least of it. I work with the gases in the air, and then this type of cloth can produce a spark. It’s ignition cloth.” She tucked her hands into her pockets. “So do you think you’re prepared for this exam?”

           “As I’ll ever be.”

           “You know they’ll ask you about the alchemy, right?”

            Will exchanged a nervous look with Alex, and then with Shou. “Y-yeah.”

           She gave him a skeptical look. “…And? What will you say?”

           “Nothing. If I can get away with it.”

           “That won’t cut it, if I know anything about the military.” Her voice was getting sharper than she wanted, but he was being deliberately obtuse at this point. “Make one up if you have to. Say it’s a special gift inherited from your father, if you have to –“ She stopped abruptly, her stomach dropping a little as Will’s expression went flat.

          “Uh-oh,” murmured Alex.

           “I’m not bringing that bastard into this,” Will hissed. He’d been in such good humour, but now his eyes were hard and cold, only a bare amount of emotion making it through. It was unnerving, especially since he’d been so emotional in the past – but then again, Diana hadn’t brought up his father ever since they’d first met.

           Still, she couldn’t leave it like this. “Well, you’re going to have to come up with something. Besides, you’ll probably be asked about him anyway –“

           And suddenly Will was on his feet, table shaking and his hands curled into fists at his sides. “ _Why?_ Can’t he leave me alone for _one goddamn second?_ ”

          “Who? Hohe-“

           “Don’t,” he hissed warningly, although she could hear a hint of pleading in his voice, a little bit of a tremble. “He is _not_ our father, and he has _nothing_ to do with us. Got it?” He struggled with something, perhaps debating whether to say something else, and then turned and half-stomped,  half-ran away.

           Diana sighed, staring at her hands for a moment. She’d known Hohenheim was no longer in the picture, but when she’d thought Will was thirty, it hadn’t stood out. Now – well –

            _Don’t ask about your father again, starling. You’re much better off without one._

“Should I go after him?” she asked Alex. Shou had slunk away, muttering something about Nina, but she had seen the embarrassment on his face. He didn’t deal with conflict well.

             Alex glanced after his brother, and then shook his head. “I – don’t think so.”

            She paused for a moment, and then figured she couldn’t do any more damage. “Alex, I want you to explain this to me. Will is enough of a ticking time-bomb without other issues, and as the records currently stand, Will is the son of a nigh-legendary alchemist. Questions _will be asked._ ”

            “I sure hope not,” muttered Alex, somewhat sourly. “Dad left when Will was three.”

            “ _Three?_ ”

            “And we haven’t seen him since.” It was impossible to gauge what Alex was feeling with only his voice as a guide, but Diana had seen Will’s reaction. “Brother took it…hard.”

             Diana sat back, thinking. “But he’ll come to the exam.”

            “Oh, yeah. He wouldn’t miss that for the world. Just…uh…I just hope there won’t be any questions about Dad.”

            “I’m terribly sorry to ask this of you, Alex, but were your parents married? Especially since you and Will are Elrics, not Hohenheims.”

             Alex flopped down on the table. “No.” There was more behind that word – more to the story, more shame, more suffering. She wondered if they’d ever been happy.

* * *

 

                Back and forth – facing the wall – facing the floor – avoiding the mirror, sometimes catching glimpses in the mirror, and then forcing himself to look at himself straight on, and then over and over again.

                Will couldn’t escape it. Will couldn’t change the fact that he looked in the mirror and his father, his fucking _father_ looked back at him, except he barely knew the man except from vague decade-old memories and faded photos.

                “Fuck off,” he growled at the mirror, tearing at his hair, and then staring down at the sink again. But despite himself, there was a little glow of pride inside his chest.

                _So what if I look like him? He’s long gone. I’ve faced the Gate, I’ve managed to impress a Lieutenant-Colonel and hopefully people even higher-up than that. And I’m a fucking alchemist. I can figure this out._

Hopefully Alex wouldn’t be too mad at him – but to be fair, Will didn’t think anything would faze his brother after the whole skirt thing.

                Time to get started. He was going to become a State Alchemist in _fine_ style.


	17. Medication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Garbage.
> 
> Trigger warning: transmisogynistic/sexist/homophobic slurs, transphobia, homophobia, sexual harassment, death reference

~17~

_My blood is pumping through my veins_

_Somebody get me out of here_

_I’m tearing at myself_

_- **Medication**_

 

                To say that he was nervous would have been an understatement. To say that he was scared stiff would have been the understatement of the _year._ Will was so terrified he wasn’t sure if he could actually enter the building.

                “Come on, Brother,” whispered Alex, well hidden behind his hair. “You can do it. Nothing to be afraid of.”

                “Who says I’m _scared?_ ” growled Will in return. He wished, once again, that Shou and Nina had been able to come – but Shou’s assessment was coming up, and Shou was also probably rightly concerned about Nina watching the practical examination. One never knew, for example, what kind of cheeky alchemist would decide to transmute a phallus or a giant middle finger. Or both. (Will hotly denied having any such ideas. Honestly, Mr. Tucker thought so little of him. He’d be _much_ more creative.)

                “Well, you’ve been standing here for fifteen minutes. Any longer and you’re going to be late.” Alex prodded Will, who winced and resisted the urge to slap the back of his neck.

                “Great, I have a mosquito for a brother. Fine, I’m going.” He opened one of the heavy white doors, nervously entering Central Command. No sooner had the door closed than he noticed a few of the distinctive blue uniforms coming down the hall towards him.

                “You know, it’s not too late to transmute yourself some good clothes and some decent hair,” muttered Alex with a hint of disapproval. Will ignored him. Besides, the dye would have to go somewhere, and chances were that any attempt at a discreet transmutation would just end with green stuff everywhere and Will looking even worse than he currently did. Not that _he_ thought he looked that bad. It was a matter of what everyone else thought. Most importantly, Lieutenant-Colonel Diana Solaris – who, he noticed with a wince, was one of the people currently coming towards him.

                “There you are! I was wondering if you’d gotten lost –“ She slowed to a stop in front of him, grin frozen on her face. Years from this moment, Will would remember with fondness and pride the look she wore as she came to a dead halt, eyes flashing with fire.

                “What,” she hissed, low enough that only he could hear, “did you do?”

                “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said flippantly.

                “Where are your good clothes?”

                “I’m wearing this,” he replied, although he couldn’t help but tug at the hem of his skirt a little, suddenly a bit self-conscious. Perhaps he should have fixed the exposed midriff.

                Solaris leaned forward a little, lips close to his ear. “Will, I have put my _entire career_ on the line to give you the chance to become a State Alchemist. You’re an alchemist. Change your hair back.”

                “Too hard.”

                “At least promise to be on your best behaviour?” If Will had heard this from anybody else, it would have been pleading; from Solaris, he had no doubt it was meant as a threat. He didn’t blackmail well, though.

                “Not a chance.”

                “One day,” she hissed, “One day you’ll do something that I will legally and morally be able to throw you off a bridge for.”

                “Until then you’ll just have to put up with me. Because I’m gonna pass, and I’m going to be annoying you for a very, _very_  long time.”

                Solaris sighed, straightening up with a remarkably smooth expression. “The worst part is I think you may be right,” she murmured with a sigh, although she noticed that he’d heard, and gave him a very small, tight smile. Will reflected that she really could be worse. Honestly, she reminded him of his old alchemy teacher.

                “You remember General Hakuro,” she said in a slightly louder voice, giving a slight bow and stepping aside. Hakuro moved forward and took Will’s hand, although his look of distaste was very badly hidden.

                “Good to see you again, William. I and my family owe you our lives.” He looked Will up and down. “I see you’ve chosen to present yourself in a very…unorthodox…fashion.”

                “I don’t have much else, and I figure if I’m gonna stand out, I might as well _really_ stand out.” He grinned toothily back at the General, who didn’t seem to appreciate it.

                There was a moment of awkwardness, and then Solaris, looking rather like she was about to pass out, said crisply, “The evaluations will be starting soon. William, follow me.”

                Will tried his best not to snort, following her and Hakuro down the hall. The third person with them, he was both glad and slightly irritated to notice, was Valjean, Solaris’s annoying second-in-command.

                “You’re a jerk,” whispered Valjean with a hint of amusement.

                “What did _I_ do?” Will crossed his arms, perhaps a tad petulantly. “I can transmute things and I can fight. Why’s everybody pissed at me for looking weird?”

                “Because the military’s composed of a bunch of upper-class twits with starched collars, waxed mustachios and a crippling fear of anything that isn’t blue, gold or green.”

                Will blinked, slowing down and looking up at Valjean with a newfound respect. “You say that like you’re not _part_ of it,” he said dubiously, making sure to keep his voice low. He didn’t have much respect for politics, but he knew enough that this wasn’t the kind of conversation that Hakuro would like.

                Valjean tapped the side of his nose with a grin. “Ah, ah. Don’t get curious, kid. The mustachios don’t wanna hear it.”

                Will flushed. How irritating. Now he wanted to _know –_ what it was he wanted to know, he wasn’t sure, but he was sure Valjean was hiding something. “I don’t get why Solaris is so mad at me though.”

                “Ah, she’s just stressed. Hakuro’s been leaning on her for lots of things. We may end up back in East when this is all over with.”

                “Crap. Is that my fault?”

                “You’re certainly not helping, but I don’t think it coulda been avoided.” Valjean, Will noted with a sly interest, didn’t have the sharply regulated accent of most of the Centralites – nor was it the rounded accent of the East country where Will had grown up. He didn’t know _what_ it was, but even that it was different –

                “Oh yeah, the Colonel told me to make sure you knew this – you know how when we first came to find you, you were in the records as being thirty and the son of Hohenheim?”

                “…Uh huh?” Despite the new look, Will suddenly felt the same old insecurities coiling up in his stomach.

                Valjean grinned again, sticking his hands in his pockets with a distinctly self-satisfied look. “We fixed it. Your records have been corrected to reflect your current age, twelve, and your father…unknown.”

                It was like he’d been punched in the stomach. “ _What?_ ” It came out a little louder than he intended, and Valjean gestured at him to lower his voice. Luckily, Hakuro didn’t seem to notice, although Will noticed Diana sneak a quick glance over her shoulder.

                “Good, isn’t it? Now you don’t have to deal with all those questions. Son of a legendary alchemist? Probably better off without that mess anyway.”

                “I…” Will swallowed. “Thanks.”

                “Hey, don’t thank me, thank Solaris.” Valjean stopped and indicated ahead. “Looks like we’re here. Take care of yourself- you got the little guy with you?” He grinned and wiggled his fingers at Alex as he peeked out from Will’s hair. “Take care of him. Or you’re toast.”

                Before Will could finish gaping in indignation and deliver some carefully-worded and terribly clever comment in return (probably involving attitudes and where he could stick them), Valjean had snapped his heels together and was facing forward. Solaris and Hakuro had already turned back towards them, and Will hurriedly tried to copy Valjean’s military posture, without much success.

                “Behind this door is the first part of the State Alchemist exam. You will be given a physical evaluation by military doctors, who will then determine whether you are fit to serve the Amestrian Military.” Solaris tilted her head at him, eyes fiery and at odds with her cold, sharp voice. “Once you have been evaluated, the written exam will follow. Nothing is to be brought into the room with you.” She glanced meaningfully at Will’s shoulder, and he thought he took her meaning – not that he was gonna listen. It wasn’t like Alex had anywhere else to go. “Once the time allotted for the written exam has expired, you will be interviewed by the Fuhrer and two other high-ranking officials. Once they have asked their questions, you will be required to demonstrate your alchemy.”

                “All this in one day?”

                She smirked at that. It was the first genuine expression, aside from her moment of shock upon first seeing him, that he’d seen all day. Certainly the first positive one. “The exam also serves to test the endurance of potential State Alchemists. I hope you ate a good breakfast.”

                “Alright. That’s all? I can do that.” He started to head for the door. Solaris stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

                “Good luck.” She squeezed his shoulder, and then released him, not even turning to watch as he entered the first room. “You’ll need it,” she whispered too low for anybody to hear.

* * *

                For all that he’d been warned about needing endurance, Will’s biggest enemy for the first part of the test was boredom. He’d been told to take his shirt off and promptly left sitting on one of several low tables in a room lit with shaky, flickering phosphorescent lights. For what must have been more than an hour.

                Will grimaced, fiddling with his hair. At least the assistant was currently doing his check-up on the guy before him, which meant he was next, which meant having something to _do._ He couldn’t even talk to Alex – it was too risky, and besides, Alex was hiding in his pocket, probably just as bored as he was.

                He glanced over at the two of them – and suddenly realized they’d both been discreetly looking at him. Will looked away with a sinking feeling. So far, he’d managed to stay pretty upbeat. But now the anxiety was starting to build in his chest. _Were they looking at the automail, or the skirt, or the hair? The whole thing? What do they think?_

 _It doesn’t matter,_ he reminded himself. _You wanted to stand out. You stand out. Case closed._

                And then before he had time to adjust, the assistant was in front of him with a sugar-sweet smile. “Hi, my name’s Julian and I’ll be doing your check-up for –“ There was a pause in his speech as his eyes met Will’s. “-today,” he finished, the startled look leaving as quickly as it had come. He checked his clipboard. “Are you William Elric, State Alchemist applicant?”

                “Yeah, that’s me.” Will pointed up at the lights, waiting until Julian looked upwards. “You know, get me up there and I could fix those for you.”

                “What, with alchemy?” Julian cocked his head, still staring upwards at the flickering lights.

_Who’s that kid over there?_

_Dunno. Musta wandered in by accident._

_The fuck is he wearing?_

               They were rough, deep voices. Will swallowed and ignored them, shrugging with a cheeky grin.

               “Nah, don’t need it for this. My best friend’s an automail mechanic. You just have a crossed wire somewhere that’s fucking up the whole circuit. Put your head down, you’re going to give yourself a spine injury.”

               Julian did so with a sheepish look. “I thought I was the doctor here. Open up.” He pulled out a fresh tongue compressor.

              “You’re no doctor, you’re just a kid – ow!” Will rubbed his nose ruefully as Julian jabbed him with the small wooden paddle.

              “I said, _open up.”_

               Will obliged with a dirty look. Once his mouth was free again, however, he couldn’t help but keep nattering on. “You’ve gotta be what, eighteen?”

              “Nineteen,” replied Julian. He pulled his pen from behind his ear and clicked it. “Hair colour…green?” He gave Will a questioning look.

              Will shrugged. “For today. Usually I’m blond.”

_Is he a faggot or something?_

_Didn’t know they were training shemales now._

              Will understood maybe half of the words they were using on him. Half was enough.

             “Of course,” muttered Julian with a surprisingly sour look. “Hair colour, blond. Eye colour, yellow.”

             “Yellow?” Will crossed his arms. “Does this look like _yellow_ to you?”

             “What terminology would you prefer, Master Elric?” Julian retorted as professionally as he could. Will wasn’t fooled. He could _see_ the sass just waiting to come out. Well, sass or murderous rage.

             “They’re gold. _Gold_ eyes.”

              “Gotcha. Eye colour, gold. Race, Amestrian.”

              “So why’s a nineteen-year-old doing the physical check-ups?” asked Will.

               Julian rolled his eyes and ignored him, putting his stethoscope in his ears and pressing it against Will’s bare chest – “Ow! That’s cold!” – and then jotting down a few notes. “Regular heartbeat. That’s good. As for your question, it’s just basic checkup. How did you get your automail?”

               “Oh! Um. I, um…I grew up in East Area. During the Ishvalan conflict. There was a… a bomb in one of the train stations, once, and I got caught in it.” Will swallowed, suddenly feeling like he was going to pass out. He wasn’t telling the truth, but he was certainly living it.

                And he could still hear them.

_Man, with how young they are, might be a chick after all._

_Who wants to check?_

Crude laughter. Will tried not to wince.

               “Ah. I see.” There was something almost like sympathy on Julian’s face. It was a strange look, and it didn’t make Will altogether comfortable. It made him wonder if Julian could hear them too.

               “My…my brother got caught in it too.” This was the lie that didn’t feel like a lie. He almost _did_ pass out – it was only remembering that Alex was _here,_ Alex couldn’t see him but he could hear him, he was just hidden that kept him centred – and he sat up straight, pretending he didn’t feel sick. “I couldn’t save him.”

                This time there was no mistaking it. Julian glanced at the ground, and then back up at Will with something approaching real warmth, although that strange sourness was there as well. “…I understand. I have a brother too.” But that was the end of that. “Alright, let’s hurry it up. People are waiting.”

                Will got to his feet, wavering a little. He couldn’t hear any more of the mocking voices, although he thought he could feel their stares.

                _Let them stare._ Still, he couldn’t stop himself from hunching forward, a faint sense of injustice flickering at the edge of his mind.

                He caught Julian’s eye, hoping for some warmth or encouragement from the older boy – but there was a flash of something dark and cold, and suddenly Will desperately wanted to go home.


	18. Points of Authority

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Linkin Park.
> 
> Trigger warning: transmisogyny and transmisogynistic slurs, implied sexual harassment, violence, guns

~18~

_Forfeit the game_

_Before somebody else takes you out of the frame_

_And puts your name to shame_

_Cover up your face_

_You can’t run the race_

_The pace is too fast_

_You just won’t last_

**_-Points of Authority_ **

 

                The alchemists came in one at a time, one miserable mediocrity after another. Diana suppressed the urge to yawn as they trailed out from the written exam, looking rather like they’d been hit by a ton of bricks. The State Alchemist potentials couldn’t hear or see her – but the generals could. Hakuro and several of the other high-ranking generals were gathered around a table at the other end of the room, sharing stories over bottles of wine. She, as a lower-ranking officer yet still high-ranking enough to be watching the trials, was expected to stay well away, keep her attention on the exam, and pretend she didn’t know that they were talking about their various mistresses and conquests.

                The latest alchemist had actually showed a certain amount of promise. “Very original,” she said quietly, red lips quirking upwards.

                “What, him?” Jareth didn’t seem nearly as convinced. “I don’t know. Working with stone is low-level stuff.”

                “Yes, but look at the purity of it. Most alchemists end up making very brittle stone – he’s mixing it with sand, glass, anything he can pull from the surrounding area. It makes for a stronger barrier, in the end. Not brilliant for battle, but it’s a good technique and it shows a greater depth of thought than most of the other applicants so far. So many of them have fixated on one element at a time that it actually weakens their overall results, but when you’re willing to draw on everything around you then it’s much more efficient.”

               “And of course, you wouldn’t know anything about fixating on one element,” teased Jareth. “Can’t really think past a single group of elements when you’re working with premade circles, though. Like yours.”

               “That’s true, but there’s got to be a way around that. It makes such a difference once you introduce that versatility.”

                Jareth smirked. “Like wonder-boy?”

                Her expression soured. “Yes. Like wonder-boy.”

               "God, you look like you just ate a lemon. He’s not _that_ bad.”

               “He dropped a _shoe_ on me, Jareth,” she said, letting herself sound whiny just for a second. “I’m allowed to be a little annoyed with him. Not to mention his hair. And here he is, the brat.”

               Despite her irritation with him, Diana’s main emotion when Will entered the room was concern. It wasn’t the written exam she was worried about; it was the medical evaluation. It was the place where there was the least privacy and the most interaction with the other alchemists – and Diana wasn’t sure if Will had really put any thought into what ‘standing out’ _meant._ She certainly knew, and she hadn’t chosen the road for herself.

               Will, however, didn’t seem nervous. Once again, she tried to see him without seeing the scared, injured little boy she’d first met underneath. Wild, green hair that reached past his shoulders, a black outfit that would have made her foster mum blush (complete with short skirt), an automail arm and leg that served both to make him look smaller and that much more dangerous. Even from here, she could see the coiled strength in the way he walked – an immature strength, to be sure, but then again he hadn’t even hit puberty yet.

             That brought her back to reality with a horrid, sinking feeling. What was she _doing?_ He was a child. He should still be in the Boy Scouts, not applying to the military. And here she was, dispassionately watching as he delivered himself into the hands of the armed forces, to be made a weapon.

            “You’re shaking,” whispered Jareth. She stilled herself, forcing herself to take a deep breath.

            “He’s very young,” she replied. “This isn’t right.”

            “It’s his choice.”

            “He’s _twelve._ Twelve-year-olds don’t make their own decisions for a good reason.”

             Jareth shook his head. “I was like him at twelve,” he said, even more quietly than before. “He knows what he’s doing. At least on the military side of it,” he added sardonically. “Not sure he knows what he’s setting himself up for with the outfit.”

             Diana took another deep breath. Somehow, somewhere, she’d gotten invested. That was probably bad. She folded her hands behind her back, using the reflection in the glass to school her features into a perfect mask as Will sat down in the giant, empty hall.

* * *

           If Will had known how nervous Diana was on his behalf (and, to be fair, her own as well), he would have laughed – and told her that he was doing a perfectly wonderful job of that on his own. However, he didn’t even know that he had an audience. As far as he was concerned, the only people in the room were him, Alex (hidden once again behind his hair), and the three high-ranking officials sitting at the raised podium in front of him. And, of course, the twenty-or-so guards.

          “Sit down,” said the official on the right. He was a stocky man, with a thatch of awkwardly-placed hair and a bristly mustache. Will did so, trying not to smile as Lt. Valjean’s words came back to him – ‘mustachios’ indeed. “State your name and hometown, please.”

         “William Elric of Rizenbul.” He was greeted with silence. “I don’t suppose you three are going to return the favour?”

         The official who’d first spoken looked a little like Will had insulted his ancestors. The man in the middle, however, let out a hearty laugh. “Fair enough! This is General Arthur Renault,” he indicated to the first man, still looking terribly offended, “and this is General Eli Packard.” Packard nodded politely. “And I am Roy Mustang, Fuhrer President of Amestris.”

          Will resisted the urge to turn and run. “…Nice to meet you?”

          That earned another laugh from the Fuhrer. He was young, realized Will, or at least he was compared to Packard, Renault, Hakuro and the rest. “It’s nice to meet you too,” he replied in a teasing voice, surprisingly low for how young he looked, and Will flushed a little. “It’s not often someone so young is given permission to take the test. But I’ve heard about your exploits so far. It was very brave of you, taking on the terrorists like that.”

          Will felt himself going even redder. “Th-thank you, sir.”

          Fuhrer Mustang leant his head on one arm. “I’m very curious as to how someone your age ends up with such extensive automail. Will you tell us?”

          He nodded, although he could barely move his lips. _Colonel Solaris doesn’t make me this awkward…_ Haltingly, hoping they couldn’t see through the barefaced lie, he retold the story of how he’d lost his arm and leg. The three interviewers nodded along, although the only real sympathy to be found was on the face of the Fuhrer himself. Renault was cold and hard, with a face like stone and gimlet eyes. Packard might have been worse – his eyes betrayed a certain bloody glee as Will answered each question.

          The interview continued. Will tried to answer the questions without letting them sink in – but they were becoming progressively more difficult to answer blandly.

         “It says here that your father is unknown. Was your mother not married?” It was Packard. Will shuddered at the expression on the general’s face.

         “…No.”

         “Your younger sister. Did you and she share the same father?”

         “As far as I’m aware.”

         “Did you know your father? No? Were there other men in your mother’s life?”

          Will didn’t react – outwardly. Inwardly, he was remembering a boy who had bullied Alex at school. He’d been much like Packard, down to the sheer joy he’d displayed while pushing people into the dirt. Oh, he understood people like this.

         “None that I remember, aside from family friends.” To keep calm, he focused on the dark-haired Fuhrer Mustang. _He_ had only asked reasonable questions so far, although his dark, upturned eyes seemed alight with a mildly sardonic amusement. Will couldn’t exactly blame him. The questions were _meant_ to be humiliating.

         “Why do you choose to wear women’s clothes?” This time it was Renault, his thin lips curling unpleasantly.

 _Well, that one was coming eventually._ It was still a good deal better than the things he’d overheard in the evaluation room (which still hovered on his mind with a sense of _what were they saying what did they mean)_ so he supposed there was that. However, better or not, Will had had enough questions about his clothes.

          “That depends,” he said airily. “Why are you wearing a toupee?”

          Renault actually rose halfway from his chair. The Fuhrer grabbed his elbow and pulled him back down. Renault had to satisfy himself with an extra-cold glare.

          “Well, I suppose that’s it for the standard questions,” sighed Mustang, pushing away the folder in front of him. The aide behind him stepped forward and picked it up, tucking the papers back in order and giving him an exasperated look before tucking it under her arm. “Now here’s a fun one. _Why_ do you want to be a State Alchemist?”

          “P-pardon?” he stammered. He could feel Alex suddenly tighten on his neck. He couldn’t exactly tell the _truth._

          Mustang laughed again. It was a rich, deep laugh, although Will couldn’t figure out whether or not the Fuhrer was mocking him. “Oh, I know what they say. State Alchemists are dogs of the military. They’re sell-outs. They’re killers, weapons, soulless human beings.” His dark eyes narrowed. “I want to know _your_ reasons.”

          Will ducked his head, staring at the floor. He _knew_ the Fuhrer had no idea what he was asking – or even if he did, he didn’t _really_ know. But all he could hear, like blood rushing in his ears was _how dare he, how dare he, how dare he._ “I…” He swallowed. “I want to serve this country in the best way I can –“ It sounded wooden even to him.

          “Try again,” commanded Mustang. “That’s the kind of patriotic zeal I expect from new recruits, not from alchemists. I want to see what you’re made of.”

          Alex whispered, almost too low to hear, “Brother, don’t lose your temper…”

          “Too late,” hissed Will. Oh, Mustang was charismatic enough. He was a smarmy, confident, cocky leader who thought he knew what he was talking about. But, he was charismatic. Pity that only took you so far. “You want to know what I’m made of? _Sir?_ ” he added sarcastically.

          The other two generals seemed to be getting uncomfortable. Mustang leant forward, eyes gleaming.

          “I want to be _better._ You’ve read the records. I was doing basic transmutations by the time I was four. I had an alchemy teacher by the time I was seven, and I’m already better than her. I can’t go anywhere in a little backwater town. The military has the science. The military has the records.” It was a lie. Kind of. He wasn’t sure. But god, it felt good to _say._ “ _That’s_ what I want.”

          Mustang grinned. “Now _that_ I can understand. Show us some of this genius. Or will I have to take you at your word?”

          “Oh, don’t worry,” snarled Will. He slammed his hands together (and was that a glint of recognition he saw in those dark eyes?) and drew a spear from the ground. It was a beautifully wrought thing, made from stone and the trace elements of copper and iron he knew he’d find within. Before the light had even completely faded away, he broke into a run towards the podium.

          “Hey, what is he –“

          “Stop!”

           Will ignored them. He thrust the butt-end of the spear into the ground, vaulting himself up and onto the podium, landing with his feet braced on the smooth top and the spear pointed at Mustang’s head.

           Nobody moved. There was nothing but the sound of Will’s heavy breathing.

           After a moment, Will spoke up, still panting. “I could have killed you very easily. This seems like a very dangerous position to put yourself in. _Sir._ ”

           Mustang hadn’t moved an inch. He sat back in his chair, arms crossed and not even sweating. “Very impressive, Elric. You’re a fighter _and_ an alchemist. And at your age, too. Not many people could have made that jump, especially with automail. However –“

           A shot rang out, shattering the butt of the spear next to Will’s head. He flinched backwards, almost falling off of the podium. He stumbled and landed with one knee, seething as he realized he was _kneeling_ in front of the Fuhrer.

           The aide who had only barely made her presence known earlier had a gun raised to him. Mustang smirked at Will. “I’m not as defenseless as I look.”

           “Point taken.” Will was starting to feel a little stupid.

            “So I suggest not trying that again, unless you want the next one through your head. Child or not, Miss Hawkeye takes threats on my life _very_ seriously.” The smirk grew wider. “Of course, one might say I was asking for it, goading you and all. Truth is, I was sort of hoping you’d do something interesting. Alchemists can be such a _dull_ lot.”

             Will smirked back, although the blood was still pounding in his ears. “Well, I’m special.”

             Mustang looked him up and down. “I’ll say. Well, we’ll get back to you. Need help getting down?”

              Will was gritting his teeth too much to respond.

* * *

               Up in the observation booth, the atmosphere had changed completely. They couldn’t hear the actual interviews from where they were (since, theoretically, those were private) – but witnessing the latest and strangest new alchemist-potential point a weapon at the Fuhrer was enough to get some tempers riled up.

                “That misbegotten _tramp!”_ spat Hakuro. “Solaris, you let me sponsor that – that – that miscreant? He should be taken out back and shot!”

                Solaris, who wasn’t entirely sure how to react herself, was liking Hakuro less and less. He’d never been a favourite, but now his true colours were starting to show. “I don’t make a habit of ordering the execution of civilian children,” she said (carefully; the past was starting to show), “and neither should you. I don’t know how much of what you saw you understood, but that was not an assassination attempt. That was a testing of boundaries.”

                “He _threatened the Fuhrer!”_

                “Who clearly had the situation under control. Unless you’re questioning his judgment?”

                Hakuro was shaking from anger now. Jareth touched her hand very lightly, behind her back where no one would see. It was a warning – she was on thin ice. Hakuro was a Major General and not overly powerful, but he was still part of Central Command.

                “I suppose you can’t expect much better from a depraved pervert like that. Twelve years old – hah! I’ll believe it when I see its birth certificate.”

                Diana didn’t snap. She wasn’t the type. Instead, she quietly took off her gloves, handing them to Jareth. “Hakuro, if I hear you utter such filth about someone young enough to be your own child again, I will be letting your wife know your opinion of such children – as well as anything else I consider relevant. William Elric is under my protection. Is that _quite_ clear?”

                Silence fell. There was some shuffling of feet. A few glasses were put delicately back on the table with a soft ‘clink’. And the look in Hakuro’s eyes told Diana that it might be a long time before she saw Central again.

                “That was stupid,” murmured Jareth.

                _Perhaps. But it was pretty damn satisfying,_ she thought to herself. Besides, Hakuro wouldn’t be in power forever.

* * *

               Will didn’t realize how tired he was until he walked out into the fresh air of Central, but one lungful of it after the staleness of Central Command had him collapsing onto the steps. “Oh god. Shit. That was. Shit.” The adrenaline was finally leaving his system.

                “I _hate_ you _so_ much.”

                Will picked up Alex from his shoulder. “What? Why?”

                “ _You could have gotten shot!_ What do I do if you’re dead, huh?” Alex sat down in the palm of Will’s hand, obviously trying to give off the impression of glaring without actually being able to do so.

                “Relax, Alex. I knew he wasn’t gonna kill me.”

                Alex crossed his arms. “The same way you knew you weren’t going to die on that train, I assume?”

                “Well, yeah. But that one was different. I _actually_ got shot.”

                There were footsteps from behind them. “Congratulations,” came Solaris’s voice. “You appear to have made an impression.”

                “Well, that’s what I was going for.”

                “My threat of throwing you off the bridge still stands, you know.” She sat down next to him, reaching back and undoing her hair from its formal bun. “That was…gutsy of you.”

                “Wait, you saw that?”

                “Certain officials get to use a viewing room. We couldn’t hear you, though. The Generals were particularly shocked at your impudence.”

                Will snorted at that. “Yet the Fuhrer bastard himself didn’t move a muscle.”

                “Oh, you’ll get used to that.” She laughed, but Will could hear the exhaustion in her voice. _That makes two of us._  “He’s got secrets behind that pretty face of his.”

                “So he’s like you,” he couldn’t help but add, but then turned red when he realized how it came out.

                “I appreciate the compliment.” Diana ran her fingers through her hair. “It looks like I’m headed back to East City. Luckily enough, I’ll be able to take my team with me. I was getting rather attached to them.”

                “Your team?”

                “You’ll meet the rest of them soon enough. If you’re made a State Alchemist, that is.”

                Will suddenly felt overwhelmingly guilty. “It _is_ my fault,” he said quietly. “The Lieutenant said something about you being moved and that I had something to do with it.”

                “Oh, Will, if only it were that simple. You’re certainly a handful, but you wouldn’t be the find you are if you weren’t. Do you think even half the people who took the exam today will be accepted?”

                Will shook his head. “They seemed pretty…lackluster.”

                “You’re _different,_ Will. In the rank-and-file of the military, that’s bad. For alchemists, that’s fantastic. And Hakuro’s had it out for me for a long time.”

                “How come?”

                It was her turn to chuckle. “I’m young. I’m ambitious. I’m a woman. And I’m a better commander than he is.”

                Will nodded, smiling. “Sore loser. I get it.” He paused. “Say, when you took the exam… uh, during the physical evaluation…” He fidgeted. “I was just wondering, where do the women go?”

                “Go?”

                “Cause people weren’t exactly wearing very much. I was feeling pretty weird, and I just –“

                Solaris looked at him with tired eyes, and then out on the horizon. “I suppose you haven’t figured it out yet.”

                “Figured out what?”

                “I’m the first one. And the only one. So far.”

                “The first – female State Alchemist? Really?” And then Will realized. She’d been in the same room, subjected to the same treatment, despite being the only woman  – and his stomach roiled at the implications.

                Alex hadn’t gotten that part. “Whoa. Do you think there’ll be more? Because, see, our teacher is a pretty great alchemist, so I guess I just never thought about the military side of it –“

                Solaris laughed, and once again it was a moment of vitality that felt real, that made her feel like a real, solid person rather than a cardboard cut-out of the perfect commander. “Oh, there’ll be plenty more. But you must be tired.”

                “No offense, Colonel, but you look like shit. I think you need a bed more than we do.”

                She sighed. “Probably true. And I should start packing. I’ll drive you home first, though. I need to remind Tucker about his assessment tomorrow.”

                “Tomorrow? Really?”

                “The assessments are all at the same time as the exam. I suppose it goes without saying that this is a busy time of year. Come on, then.”

                Alex tugged on a loose strand of Will’s hair. “Mooove! I’m bored and I want to go home.”

                “Whiny little –“ He couldn’t finish the insult for laughing, “Okay, we’re going!”

                _Home._


	19. Te Amo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Rihanna.
> 
> Trigger warning: parental abandonment, implied sibling abuse/bullying

~19~

_She cried te amo_

_I told her I’m not gonna run away_

_But let me go_

_My soul is awry, without asking why_

**_-Te Amo_ **

 

                “Big brother’s home!” Before Will had even closed the door behind him, Nina had launched herself at him, almost knocking him over. “Did you win it? Did you did you did you?”

                “Haha, I don’t know yet! I don’t get to find out for a while yet.” Will put her down carefully, petting Alexander before looking up at Shou. “You, uh, you might be mad at me.”

                Shou sighed. “Don’t worry, I prepared myself for bad news.”

                “You have so little faith in me!”

                Solaris stood by the door. “I’ll let you three –“ She glanced at Alexander, then at Will’s shoulder. “Four?” She shrugged. “I’ll let you celebrate. But Shou, don’t forget, your assessment results are due tomorrow.”

                His shoulders sagged. “I won’t forget. The Brigadier-General has already done me the favour of reminding me,” he said in a low voice.

                “Brigadier -? Oh, Basque-Grand.” Solaris gave a small bow. “Goodnight, Major Tucker. Goodnight, Will – and Nina.”

                Then she was gone, walking off into the night. She needed a drink, a fuck and some sleep, and she didn’t particularly care which she got first.

* * *

                Nina tugged on Shou’s shirt as high up as she could reach. “Daddy, will you tuck me in? I’m sleepy and I wanna go to bed.”

                Shou looked down at her, and then sighed. “I’m sorry, Nina. Daddy has to get things ready for tomorrow. But tomorrow night, I promise.”

                “But –“ Nina pouted. She turned her gaze to Will. “Will you put me to bed, big brother?”

                “I, uh….sure,” he replied with a smile, giving Shou a thumbs up. Alex waved at her from his vantage point. He’d expected to have to hang on to Will’s shoulder, that it would be a precarious position, but there was a dip in his brother’s shoulder close to his collarbone that actually suited him quite well. Alex supposed there was something very symbolic about that, but he didn’t do very well when it came to the vagaries of art.

                “And you hafta read me a story!”

                Will rolled his eyes. “Oh, _fine._ ”

                “Look at that, brother. You even get bossed around by toddlers,” said Alex jokingly, and Will swatted at him. Alex ducked, but Will had missed by miles on purpose.

                “Come on, Nina. Mr. Tucker has to get his work done.” Will patted Nina on the back, and not for the first time, Alex noticed how gentle he was with her. Nina was certainly no more fragile than Alex had been at four years old – he’d watched her wrestle with Alexander often enough for that. She had a good brain on her, too. Not for the first time, Alex wondered what it would have been like if Trisha and Shou had ever crossed paths, if Nina had been their little sister from the start.

                Nina gave Will a mischievous look, then ran ahead of him, hauling herself up the stairs on all fours. They were a little bit too tall for her, but she managed with a little help from Alexander, who trotted beside her and nudged her with his nose every time she seemed about to lose her balance. Will followed behind her at a snail’s pace with a lopsided grin.

                “I remember chasing you up the stairs at home,” he said to Alex with a hint of wistfulness.

                “Yeah, and at Izumi’s, too. How come I didn’t ever chase you?”

                “Dunno.”

                Alex knew exactly why. He’d asked to see what Will would say – because now that Will treated him with such tenderness, it made the past feel that much more distant. Alex hadn’t ever been the one chasing Will because he was always running away. In fact, for a very, very long time, Alex couldn’t remember being anything but scared of his brother. It had changed with their mother’s death, but that fear, that knowledge that Will had a _temper,_ never quite went away.

                Now? Now Alex had seen his brother dull and dead inside; he’d seen him broken and defeated; he’d even seen that temper directed at other people, at the Fuhrer and at the Colonel and even at Mr. Tucker, and now Alex was watching his brother treat someone small and weak and useless with the same respect he would anyone else, if not more, and he was beginning to think he wasn’t as scared of his brother as he used to be.

                Still, he _did_ wonder how long it would last.

                Nina jumped onto the landing at the top of the stairs and after exclaiming in victory, collapsed and rolled onto her back. “I’m tired now. Pick me up?”

                “Bossy, bossy.”

                “I’m not bossy! I’m…” She was still searching for the word as Will picked her up. She was already in her pyjamas (cherry-blossom pink with lace frill around the collar and bright red buttons – he would remember that) and he carried her the few steps to her bedroom and bed, pulling back the sheets and dumping her from his arms so that she bounced on the mattress.

                Alex hopped off of Will’s shoulder and onto the bed beside Nina. “You should have been in bed hours ago!” he exclaimed as he caught sight of the clock on her bedside table. “Were you waiting for us?”

                Nina nodded, yawning. “Daddy said I could. And I wanted to make sure you were coming back.”

                Will frowned. “Of course we were coming back. It was just the exam, Nina.”

                Nina sighed, squeezing the sheets in her small hands. Alex hadn’t seen her sad before. “…Mum said she was coming back, too.”

                _Oh._ Alex looked up at Will as discreetly as he could. The dark look was hovering on the edge of Will’s face, but he was smiling as naturally as he could. He probably didn’t want to make Nina feel like she’d said something wrong.

                Still, Will wasn’t good at hiding things. Alex supposed that left it up to him.

                “What happened?” he asked as kindly as he could, walking up to in front of where her legs crossed under the sheets.

                “I don’t know. Mum and Daddy had a lot of fights, and then one day she left and Daddy said she was going to come back but that was a long time ago.” Nina’s lips were quivering. “A-and I write her letters but Daddy won’t send them for me!” She pointed to a pile of papers on the floor.

                Will bent down to look at them, but Alex already knew what he would see. Crayon drawings of a perfect, unbroken family. Scribbled, jumbled notes that all amounted to ‘come home now please?’ - perhaps a few angry, scratched out condemnations, although Nina might be too sweet for that.

                “Nina…”

                “I don’t want you and Will to go anywhere! You’re my big brothers and I don’t have anybody but my big brothers…” Nina picked up Alex and hugged him, holding him close. “I love you!”

                Will shuffled closer, and Alex could see the hesitation in him, the realization that a wrong move could _hurt_ her. “I…” He swallowed, and then gave Alex a pleading look.

                He was asking Alex to help him. He felt – something – like a lump in his throat, but of course he didn’t _have_ a throat, he couldn’t swallow and lick his lips to stop them from being so dry – his brother was _asking for his help._

“Nina, I can’t promise we’ll never go away for a bit, but… I promise we’ll always come back. Okay?” Alex murmured into her ear. She set him down, still sniffling.

                “Do you _have_ to go?”

                “If the Colonel tells us to,” Alex replied. Will pulled a face at that, and Nina giggled, before extending her arms out to him. Once again, Alex could see the fear in his eyes, the terror that he would do something wrong, say something wrong and make things worse.

                A small, vindictive, mean part of him enjoyed it. _Welcome to my life, brother._ But Nina needed them, and even if Will would never admit it and Alex didn’t know how to say it, they needed her too.

                “Oh, _alright_ ,” he laughed, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her tightly. “We’re _always always_ coming back.”

                “Pinky swear?”

                “Pinky swear.” Will held up both of his pinky fingers.  “One for me and one for Alex.” The latter proceeded to mime throwing up. “Ignore Alex. He’s being rude.”

                Nina giggled, wiping away a few tears that had trickled down her face. “Thank you.”

                “Hey, don’t worry about it.” Will stroked her head, and then began to carefully undo her pigtails, easing off the elastics and then combing his fingers through her wavy hair. “…Somebody promised me the same thing and broke it once. I’d never do that to you,” he murmured quietly.

                Alex didn’t want to think about their father. Instead, he focused on Will’s fingers, trying to remember what they felt like, what his own hands had felt like. His brother’s were long and thin, the colour of birch-tree branches – they’d felt like…felt like velvet wrapped around knives, or how the sparklers of the Rizenbul festival felt against his face, sometimes warm, sometimes biting, and always electric and animated. His own hands… his own hands had been pudgy little things, pink and warm and always a little sweaty.

                And now he had little nubs that could scratch patterns into things, maybe get a bit of purchase on a few things and not much else. He could barely do alchemy beyond the simplest circles.

                “Do you still want that story?” he heard Will ask, and Alex tried to pull himself out of it. He could still speak and he could still move – it wasn’t _all_ bad.

                Nina thought for a moment, and then shook her head. “I’m tired. But you can read it to me tomorrow!” She clambered over Will’s lap and yanked something from the bookshelf right next to her bed, sending about five other books clattering to the ground. “Oops.” She pushed it to Will’s chest. “You keep it! Practice voices for me and then you can read it tomorrow!”

                Will laughed. “Ok, ok. But you have to go to sleep now, alright?”

                “Ok!” Nina lay down on the pillows, pulling the blankets up around her face, probably to hide her sneaky little grin.

                “I saw that,” said Alex, poking her foot and chuckling as she squealed. “No sneaking out to play with Alexander!”

                “Mmmmmmmm….okay! Night night Will! Night night Alex!”

                Will got to his feet, and then impulsively, even after he’d started to turn away, leant over and kissed Nina on the forehead. “Sleep well,” he said wistfully. He picked up Alex, who settled himself into his usual spot on Will’s shoulder, and turned out the light as he left.

                “Will?”

                “Yeah?” he responded quietly as he walked down the hall.

                But Alex couldn’t ask. He _knew_ what answer he would get, he logically understood that people changed. So instead, he said, “Better get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

* * *

                If Alex had to choose one thing he missed about being a living, breathing human being, above all else – he’d probably choose sleeping. Of course, he might just be saying that because it was currently pitch black and everybody worth talking to was currently asleep. It had nearly driven him crazy the first few nights, staring at the blank wall and running alchemy equations through his head to keep himself entertained. It was easier now, but he did have to wonder how somebody not as accustomed to their own company would have coped.

                Will was sleeping, now. Not restfully – that was rare – but he was sleeping. As usual, he was securely cocooned within the blankets, a few strands of green hair poking out.

                Everything was silent.

                If Alex had chosen that moment to look out the door of the bedroom, he might have seen Nina walking down the hall, hands tangled in Alexander’s fur, tiptoeing along the hardwood floor.

                But he didn’t.

* * *

                Will never found out what woke him up. It might have been another nightmare – he woke up with the thousand eyes of the Gate emblazoned into his retinas – but he always wondered.

                “Will? Are you okay?”

                “…Yeah.” Will blinked. “It’s still dark out?”

                Alex laughed at that. “It’s four in the morning. _Maybe._ You actually beat the sun up for a change.”

                “Ugh.” He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I’m gonna check on Nina,” he mumbled.

                “I’m sure she’s fine.”

                “Well, I’m not gonna get back to sleep now, so I might as well do something.” Will hoisted himself out of bed, and after a moment of thought, put on some proper clothes. (Proper for him, anyway.) Like he’d said, getting back to sleep now would be impossible, so he might go read for a bit afterwards. And he might as well surprise Shou by actually being dressed.

                “You coming?” he mumbled again, yawning and stretching his arms. Alex nodded, climbing onto Will’s offered hand.

                Quietly, Will moved out into the hallway, bare feet sticking to the smooth floor in the late October heat. Usually autumn nights were cold, but it was much, much warmer in the city – and it was unseasonably warm this year. Not that Will was complaining. He had enough memories of curling up in front of the furnace on late November nights, perusing some book he’d borrowed from the Bradleys in the orange light and shivering at each draft.

                He came to the door to Nina’s room, and pushed it open. “Nina?” There was no response.

                “I told you, she’s probably asleep.”

                Will frowned. “You sound worried.”

                “Well, when was the last time I had a four-year-old to worry about? Especially since the only frame of reference I have is you, me and Selim.”

                Will laughed quietly at that. “Yeah, that’s not terribly comforting.” He took a few steps forward, wincing at the slight rasp of his metal foot on the floor. “Nina?” he whispered again. His heart jumped into his throat, but he took a deep breath. She was _asleep._ Obviously.

                Will drew a little closer and reached out to shake her shoulder. His hand encountered nothing but rumpled blankets and sheets.

                “Brother? What’s wrong –“

                Will tore out of the room, sliding and stumbling on the floor. “NINA!”

                “Brother, slow down!” Alex clung to Will’s hair to stop himself from falling off of his shoulder. “She’s probably just getting some water.”

                Will didn’t seem to hear him as he ran down the stairs. The light in the kitchen was off – _where is she where is she WHERE IS SHE –_

He turned on his heel again – and realized the basement light was on, the stairs glowing with gentle light.

                “See?” said Alex in a slightly admonishing voice. “She went to see her dad.”

                “…Right.” Will took a deep breath. “I knew that.”

                “I have to admit, it’s kind of cute how worried you get about her.”

                “You tell anybody and I’m running you through the wood chipper,” retorted Will. He still felt uneasy in the oppressive darkness and pervasive heat, but he ignored it. “Should we go see them?”

                Alex snorted. “Yeah, so we can get her back to bed, the little…” he coughed. “Rascal.”

                Will ignored him and closed his hand around the banister, starting a little when he realized it was cold. Step by step, he descended into the basement, his shadow stretching out endlessly behind him – and when Will glanced behind him (and it was only a trick of the light, of course) it almost looked like it was grinning.


	20. Falling Away From Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Korn.
> 
> Trigger warning: moderately extreme violence, gore, body horror, abuse, dark creepy things

~20~

_Beating me, beating me_

_Down, down_

_Into the ground._

_Falling away from me_

_It’s spinning round and round_

**_-Falling Away From Me_ **

 

                It is Diana’s turn to dream.

                She is holding a gun. Not the gloves this time – a simple, ordinary gun. A Browning M1900. (Funny how the little details crept out at her. She hadn’t had a Browning on her missions – she’d carried an old Colt that didn’t so obviously advertise her status as a soldier of Amestris.) The Browning is pressed against the neck of a brown-skinned boy, possibly eighteen, perhaps older…probably younger.

                “Get on your knees,” she says, even though she can’t feel her lips move. Her voice comes from far away.

                He obliges. She can feel the quivering that runs through his whole body. He’d probably wet himself the moment he felt the cold barrel against his skin. “Will you kill me?” he asks her in broken Amestrian.

                “Do you want to die?”

                “ _Insh’Ishvala.”_

She tightens her finger on the trigger. The massacre has not yet begun. She realizes that she is lost in time – trapped in the past, before the blood stained the streets and the bodies fell atop each other in the road and on the sand and around her feet –

                -and suddenly the boy in front of her is dead and there are maggots in his eyes. The gun is hot in her hand. And though his skin is still brown and his hair is still pale, suddenly his face is Will’s.

                Diana drops the gun. She wipes her hands, her bloody hands, on her sand-coloured cloak, but they are stained. They are stained. They are –

                _“Insh’Ishvala.”_

* * *

                “Diana. Diana!” She woke up slowly, dragging herself out of the hole of her dream. Guilt made it easy to want to stay.

                “…Jareth,” she mumbled, recognizing his face with dull surprise. The blackness of the dream (nightmare) still hung on her like a cloak. She couldn’t quite focus. “…I thought I told you only to use your key in emergencies.”

                Her vision started to clear, and she noticed with a growing sense of alarm that his face was set and hard, with – was that fear in his eyes?

* * *

                “Nina?” Will called into the basement. The door was ajar, which he took to mean that she had in fact been down here. He didn’t know what he would do if she _wasn’t. Damn that girl!_ he thought to himself, a little uncharitably.

                However, it was a different voice that responded. “Will, is that you?” The door swung slowly open, and Will took an involuntary step backwards at the sight of a pale face swimming out of the shadows.

                “Mr. Tucker? Is that you?” asked Alex. Will nodded, trying to add something of import to Alex’s statement – but his heartbeat still hadn’t slowed down. It was the middle of the night and Tucker – god, Tucker looked like a corpse.

                Shou grinned. It made him look even more grotesque. He shambled out into the light, but it wasn’t much of an improvement. “Sorry. I look a bit disastrous, don’t I? But I did it!” There was a mad glow in his eyes, something that couldn’t be hidden even behind his thick glasses.

                “Did what?” Alex was doing all the talking. Will was fine with that. _I want to go home I want to go home I’m scared I’m scared Mom I’m scared -_

                “I made another one,” he whispered.

                “Another –“ Will choked. “Another _chimera?_ ”

                “Better than the last one!”

                Now Will was curious, and if he knew Alex at all, Alex was too – but that sense of danger was still there. _Stop being such a baby. Just figure out what’s going on. And find Nina._

Shou opened the door farther and beckoned them in. “Come see!”

                Will took a cautious step through the door, then another. Suddenly, his automail foot (still that bit heavier than the other, and sometimes he just forgot to overcompensate) got stuck on the lip of the door – not much, just enough to trip him up. He sprawled to the floor.

                “Ouch. Are you okay?” Shou sounded less than sympathetic.

                Will lifted his head from the concrete, rubbing his head. “Fuck. That _really_ hurt. Alex?” He raised his head a little more.

                “Behind you. I fell off.”

                “Of course you did. One sec.” Will got up to one knee – and found him face to face with something. It wasn’t _quite_ a dog. It was a chimera.

                It was _the_ chimera.

                “Isn’t she quite beautiful?”

                Will blinked, and blinked again. “H-hello?”

                _Something is wrong SOMETHING IS WRONG I WANT TO GO HOME_

The dog-chimera opened its mouth, its white, fur-covered eyes staring straight into his. “B-big bro…ther?”

                Everything stopped.

                Will couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. _Big brother. Big brother._

_It spoke._

_It spoke to me._

_It knows me._

_It._

_It._

_IT?!_

“You…you…” he whispered hoarsely, his throat closing up with the horror of it. “N-Nina…”

                The dog-chimera, the terrible fused thing, limped forward and tried to push its – her – nose against Will’s face. She collapsed before she could. “Hu-hurts! Hurts!”

                Will placed a trembling hand on the chimera’s snout. He still couldn’t – he couldn’t _think,_ he couldn’t _breathe_  -

                “Shou,” Alex said in a low, grim tone. “…Why?”

                “My assessment is _today!_ I – I was out of options! If you knew how they’d been threatening me – what they’ve been threatening me _with –_ “

                Before Shou could say another word, there was a dull steel hand at his throat, and slowly, as Shou sputtered and gasped for air, Will realized it was his. “ _Is that Nina?_ ”

                Tucker grasped at his throat, desperately tugging at his hand. “P-please – understand – you – you _must_ understand – of all people –“

                “Of _all people?_ ” Will was vaguely aware of Alex desperately tapping on his leg, scratching at him with his wooden hands – and he could hear Nina (and Alexander, it was _both_ of them, trapped together in a body that wasn’t supposed to exist) whimpering –

                “I knew it was _possible –_ but the first one died so quickly, I couldn’t study it, I couldn’t get anything from it except that…that it _worked!_ ” Shou’s face suddenly lit up, his eyes glinting with a strange wonder.

                Will’s stomach twisted. The pieces were coming together. “The first one. The first chimera. Your wife. Nina’s mother.”

                “She was always _yelling._ She wasn’t important anyway –“ Shou was cut off as Will shoved his head into the brick wall.

                “ _Not important?_ ”

                “Brother, please, stop…”

                Shou pushed feebly at Will’s chest. With a rush of adrenaline that mixed unpleasantly with the roiling, sour feeling that was rising in him, Will realized – he was _stronger._ He threw Shou to the floor.

                “Will, you _must_ understand. You’re a scientist, after all –“ Tucker held up one of his hands defensively, adjusting his glasses with the other. His plea was cut off with a metal foot. The heel slammed into his hand, several of his bones snapping under the attack and his nose crunching along with his glasses. His scream echoed for a while in the concrete room.

                “Brother – Brother, I don’t think I can reverse it, I need your help – I don’t think I can do it without killing her –“

                Will couldn’t hear his brother through the blood rushing in his ears. “What am I supposed to understand, _Tucker?”_

“S-sacrifices are made in the pur…pursuit of knowledge,” sputtered Tucker, struggling into an upright position and spitting out blood. It was pouring from his nose, but that glint – that fucking _glow –_ was still there. He turned to look at Nina with a smile. “And look. She’s perfect.” It was a look with more adoration, more love, than Will had ever seen on his face before.

                Will kicked him again. Again. Once more. He didn’t even realize he was screaming, even when he picked up Shou by the shirt collar, when he realized that Tucker was _confused –_

“W-Will…stop…” he croaked from between his ruined teeth. “W-we can…put her back when…” he coughed, hacking up a phlegmy clot of blood, “when you fix Alex.” He smiled again. It had been so charming before. It still held some of that cautious shyness – the desperate need for approval, the fear of rejection – but it was a grotesque mask of red and black now as his face swelled.

                The blood ran cold in Will’s veins. It ran down his spine as the mumbled, broken words sank in. “You –you think – you – we… we are not – we are _not the same!_ ”

                Shou’s smile broke into a grin. The dark circles around his eyes – Will had not put those there – deepened and shone like bruises. “Aren’t we?”

* * *

                Alex reached desperately for the first stair. Nina was beyond help, or at least _his_ help – but Shou wasn’t. It hadn’t sunk in yet. All he knew – all he could think about – was that Shou was going to die, perhaps Nina too, if he didn’t _get somebody,_ because oh god, Will was going to kill him, and Alex couldn’t stop him.

                “P-please…” he whispered to himself. “Just that little bit higher…” He couldn’t draw an accurate enough circle. He couldn’t even climb a flight of fucking _stairs._ And then – and then! His hands caught on a slight irregularity in the stone, and he was up on the first stair. And he could see the banister and how it connected to the wall close to the stairs, and he could climb up and – yes! He _could_ do it.

                But in time…please, god, let him be in time.

* * *

                Shou didn’t have any teeth left. That should have been a cue to Will to stop. Indeed, a small voice in the back of his head (or perhaps coming from his shoulder where his conscience usually sat) told him that he should have stopped long ago.

                But – but. There wasn’t anything after that. The long and short of it was, Will kept hearing Nina’s voice saying, “It hurts,” and turning around and seeing her, and the rage came up in him again like a flood of bile.

                This time, it didn’t matter where he looked, he felt sick. Shou was a crumpled pile on the ground, hardly recognizable as the man who had given them shelter, who had taught him and mentored him so ceaselessly in the two weeks they’d lived there. And part of him felt so _stupid._ Two weeks was nothing. Maybe Shou was right. Maybe this wasn’t his business.

                Then he looked up at Nina again, who was still sitting in the circle again, her face – snout – demonstrating what could only be an expression of fear.

                Will’s legs gave way beneath him and he collapsed to the floor. He brought his hands to his face – recoiled when he realized they were covered with blood. He’d actually broken one of the finger-plates on the automail, again. He remembered punching the wall at least once – he would have broken it then. He hoped. He didn’t want to think about the alternative.

                Nina shook in her circle for a little longer, and then slowly, waveringly, moving like a geriatric, she padded over to where Will sat. “W-ill? Don’t – cry –“

                “I’m… I’m not crying…” he whispered, even as he felt the tears roll down his face. She pushed her head – Alexander’s head – _oh god –_ towards his chest, ignoring the blood. He wrapped his arms slowly around her, and then, as if the feel of fur instead of skin against his hands brought it home in a way that the sight of it couldn’t, he burst into tears.

* * *

                The phone was up on a table, but the jack came down and plugged into the wall, within arm’s reach for Alex. With a determination borne from panic, he yanked at it, and the whole phone came crashing to the floor, the receiver falling off onto the floor.

                He cursed. Another problem. He couldn’t listen and talk at the same time. He’d just have to yell and hope the operator understood. _They’d better understand._

“Operator! Operator, you’d better be there because I cannot hear you,” he yelled into the phone. He could faintly hear a tinny voice from the other end. “Get me Colonel Solaris! _Now!_ I know it’s late, but this is an emergency!” He couldn’t remember the code. _What was the code?_ He could remember everything else – the way she’d handed it to him, told him when to use it, and _he couldn’t remember it –_ and then suddenly it snapped back to him, and he recited it into the phone, once, twice, three times. He rushed to the other end, where he could hear the clicking sounds of a number being dialed. He’d succeeded.

                A voice came through the phone. “ _You’ve reached Lieutenant Jareth Valjean, current stand-in for the Colonel. What’s going on?”_

It was all Alex needed to hear. He moved to the other end of the phone. “Valjean, it’s Alex! Alex Elric – it’s – it’s Will, it’s Mr. Tucker, it’s – you have to come, quick! Please! Please, please, please…” He could hear the sob in his voice, but he couldn’t stop it. “I think he’s going to kill him.”

                There was a response of some sort, and a click. Now all Alex could do was sit and wait – and hope.

* * *

                When they _did_ get there – roughly half an hour later, which was longer than Diana had hoped and shorter than she’d expected – the house was dark. “How do you want to do this?” murmured Jareth, already pulling his gun out of his holster. _Vera,_ she remembered dimly, and wanted to laugh.

                “I’ll take point. You grab four other men and cover me,” she replied. She loaded her gun, and was struck with a sudden sense of déjà vu. She had the standard-issue for Amestrian soldiers. A Browning M1900.

                “…Actually,” she said after a moment of deliberation. “I’d like you to take point. You’re better with a gun than me.”

                Jareth gave her a side-eyed look. He knew she was lying. “Alright. Let’s go.”

                They crept to the door. Diana knocked experimentally on the door. “This is Lieutenant-Colonel Diana Solaris! Open up!” There was no response. She and Jareth traded glances.

                “I’ll take care of it,” he replied quietly. He backed up and then ran at the door, shoulder-first. It gave away easily with a shower of splinters and a sad little groan. Diana supposed that if everything was alright, they’d have to pay for a new door – but it looked like Tucker had needed a new one anyway.

                “Flashlights,” she commanded, and gestured to Jareth to go ahead. He pulled out his light, holding it above his gun as he ventured into the shadowed room. It was strange, how a house that had been so inviting was now so relentlessly foreboding – of course, there had been no shortage of warm, inviting pubs and restaurants in Ishval either.

                The first thing Diana saw was the light coming from the basement. “Somebody cover the kitchen and dining room – somebody else…” She turned around. Havoc stood behind her, face grim and jaw set. “Havoc. You take somebody and check upstairs. Jareth?”

                “One moment.” He turned around, something cradled in his hand. “I found him.”

                She moved closer. “Alex?”

                The doll stirred slightly. “C-Colonel?” His voice was broken, heavy with grief. “P-please, they’re downstairs…”

                “Sssh,” she said as comfortingly as she could. “It’s okay. We’re here.”

                “Please – I think it’s already too late –“

                Jareth held him even closer. “I’m here, kid. No need to worry.” He slid Alex carefully into his breast pocket. “Is that okay?” Alex nodded. “We’ll get them.”

                The two of them advanced towards the staircase. Diana signaled to Jareth to go first, but he shook his head. “Whatever’s down there isn’t pretty. He doesn’t need to see it again.”

                The image of Will and the Ishvalan child blurred together in her brain again. _It’s not real. Just a dream._ “Makes sense.”

                Still, she couldn’t stop her heart from racing against her chest.

                The flashlight showed it to her one bit at a time. The first thing she saw was the crumpled mess of blood and flesh on the floor. Something rose in her throat – and then it – _he -_  stirred ever so slightly, and she nearly screamed.

                “Di?” Jareth whispered from behind her.

                “Get the medics. Now!”

                “But –“

                “I can take care of myself. This man is alive. Somehow.” She entered the basement itself, moving around the injured man and trying not to look too closely. But she could tell it wasn’t Will – he was too tall, and there was none of his telltale green hair. Funny – it was only the previous day that he’d done that. She’d been so mad. Now she wanted to apologize.

                “Is someone there?” came the faintest of whispers. Diana turned towards the sound, possibly too quickly.

                The light fell on the two of them. The dog looked up at her with eyes too human for its face, a paw with toes slightly too long and with too many joints resting on Will’s knee. And Will looked up at her, not even moving to shield his eyes from the light, his face pale and spattered with red, and whispered, “It was an accident.”


	21. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Meg and Dia.
> 
> Trigger warning: psychosis, mental illness, PTSD, unreality, some violence, character death

**~21~**

_Monster, how should I feel?_

_Creatures lie here, looking through the window_

**_-Monster_ **

“William Elric.” He’d never heard his name spit out with quite so much hatred before. So much _fury._ “Our latest _hopeful_.” The man – Will vaguely recognized him from the ---- house – loomed over him, leaning across the table with his huge hands firmly planted on the black expanse between him and his prisoner.

His prisoner. That would be Will. He picked up his hands with a wry, tired smile, jangling the handcuffs that kept him attached to the chair (which was very conveniently bolted to the ground). “Yep. That’s me. What about it?”

“Stop playing games with me!” the man thundered into Will’s face, mustache crinkling. Will couldn’t help it – he snorted, and then began to laugh, leaning forward until his forehead touched the table.

The same meaty hands that had slammed against the table now grabbed his shoulders, wrenching one of them nearly out of its socket as Brigadier-General Grand dragged Will back upright. “What’s so _funny_ , huh?”

“Oh, nothing.” Will had managed to take his laughter down to a snicker. “Just, uh, a friend once told me the military was made up of a lot of starched collars and waxed mustachios. I think you might have gotten yours mixed up.”

A vein popped out in Grand’s forehead. He lifted his fist, and Will winced in anticipation – but the blow didn’t land. He glanced upwards. Hughes’s hand was closed around Grand’s wrist – not tightly, but a reminder of his presence. Hell, _Will_ had almost forgotten he was there.

“Grand.” Hughes’ voice was low, with a hint of menace Will had never heard from him before. It was a day of new things, all told. Or night. It felt like he’d been in this little concrete room for forever, the bars on the window casting the same unwavering shadows, the fluorescent lamps flickering the same patterns over his face and burning the same shapes into his eyes.

“Will, can you tell us what happened?”

Will stared at his hands, and casually traced the riveted lines in the palm of his steel hand. They were worn smooth, with only the occasional hint of roughness. “Happened when?”

“He’s playing with us,” Grand hissed, but Hughes shook his head.

“I’ve seen this before,” he said sadly. “Give him time.” He turned his attention back to Will, who pretended not to notice. “You were at ----- house.”

Will said nothing. Hughes seemed to realize it hadn’t fully registered. “You were asleep. Do you remember the last time you were asleep?”

“Yeah,” he replied. _No,_ he thought.

“Tell me what happened when you woke up.”

“Nothing happened.” It came out so smoothly, like he hadn’t spoken, that the thump of Grand’s fists on the table almost shocked him out of his seat.

“ _Bullshit!_ ­­­----- ------ is in hospital, barely alive, his daughter is _missing,_ and all you can say is ‘nothing happened’?” Grand turned to Maes, anger and exasperation warring on his hard, chiseled face. “He’s been repeating himself for almost an hour. Your method _isn’t working._ ”

“Because he’s been traumatized.” Will couldn’t help but be slightly amused – Hughes sounded like a frustrated primary school teacher explaining why his five-year-old student couldn’t have the crayon _right now_. Except, of course, they were talking about him, and that was disturbing enough on its own.

“Traumatized by what?”

Hughes adjusted his glasses. “Well, apparently Solaris and Valjean can help us with that one. Shall we --- and let Will ---- figure himself ----“ He got to his feet and came over to Will’s side of the table. “I can’t --- right now, but there’ll be people checking on you ----- soon.”

“-------------------------------------------“

“---------------“

“-----“

* * *

 

 “I’m only going to ask you once, Colonel,” he said with a grim face. “What happened?”

Diana folded her hands primly on the table. “I entered the house with a team of five others, including Lieutenant Valjean. We did a sweep, and Valjean and I entered the basement.”

“Why the basement?”

“The light was on.”

Grand nodded at that. She could feel the relief pouring off him in waves. She didn’t know what was going on, but she knew _something_ was wrong with Will. Not that she held it against him.

“What did you find?” It was Hughes this time. Diana thought she might scream. Grand she could handle – she could keep up the façade because it was normal around boors like him, the pigs who got servants to shine their jackboots for them, but from Hughes it made her want to break down and shout obscenities at Tucker, at Grand, at everybody who had let it happen. Because, oh _yes,_ she knew what had happened here.

But the storm stayed inside. Outside, nothing changed. “I found Tucker in the state the medics later discovered him in. Will Elric was close by, crouched on the floor, with a chimera.”

“A _chimera?_ ” Grand’s attempt to sound surprised fell rather flat. Diana didn’t miss the black look Hughes directed at him, though.

“What was William’s emotional state at the time?” Hughes leaned his chin on the knuckles of one hand, his wedding ring glinting slightly in the bland light. Another sickening thought leapt to her mind – _Gracia. The baby. This must be killing him._  

“Disturbed. Very. The poor boy was covered with blood and bruises, and he was holding that chimera like he was afraid it would fall apart.”

Grand actually reacted at that one. “Did – did he say anything?”

She nodded. “He said, ‘It was an accident’.”

Hughes’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “ _Well_ then. Grand, what do you make of that?”

“That’s practically an admission of guilt. I say we lock the psycho up and throw away the key.”

Diana cursed mentally. Things weren’t going her way at all – until Hughes shook his head. “Grand, who beat _him_ up? You saw him. Those were fresh bruises, and Solaris testifies that he was found with them – so you can’t blame clumsy medics or overzealous soldiers.”

“I don’t care!”

“And where’s the little girl, Grand?” Hughes’s low voice was a knife through the hot, still air of the room. He adjusted his glasses, fixing Solaris with his stare. It was hard to remember sometimes that Hughes was on her side. On Will’s side. “Was there anything else down there, Solaris?”

She nodded, and to her horror realized she was trembling. She’d seen worse, she reminded herself. Although, admittedly, not much. “A circle. For making a chimera.” She shuddered slightly. “For blending a dog and a human.”

Silence. Hughes’s eyes were cold, shards of ice behind glass, and he spoke slowly, voice dripping with poison. “Would you still like to lock up the psycho in the next room, Basque? Or would you like to head to the hospital and arrest the one you’ve been defending?”

Grand did not move. Diana had a feeling he would do no such thing. In fact, she had a feeling Grand wasn’t surprised by much he heard at all.

* * *

 “Where is this supposed chimera, then?”

Jareth snorted. “Isn’t that obvious? She escaped.”

 _“She?_ ”

“ _Yes,_ she, you halfwit,” he sneered back. He didn’t have much hope left of keeping his job anyway, and with Alex alternating between catatonia and silently weeping in the pocket of his coat, he really didn’t have it in him to be nice. “Will was alright until the medics tried to take a look at him and some of the others tried to take care of Nina. She freaked out because she was in pain or something, he freaked out along with her, things got chaotic, she escaped.”

Hughes nodded. “There’s already teams looking for her. I gather you already gave them a full description?”

“As best as I could manage, yeah.”

Grand’s face twisted. “You’re lying.”

Jareth pretended his heart hadn’t skipped a beat. “About _what?_ The little girl that went through the worst torture imaginable or the kid who beat the State Alchemist exam and went home to _that?_ ”

“You’re lying about how it escaped. Someone let it get away.” Grand leant close, grinning and baring his teeth. “And I _will_ find out who.”

“Good luck, asshole.” And, for effect (and possibly because he knew, he _knew_ that his career was over) he spat into Grand’s face – right onto his perfectly groomed mustache.

Grand wiped it off, never taking his eyes off of Jareth. Then he turned around and walked out, letting the door slam closed behind him.

Hughes watched him go, and waited a few moments before cradling his head in his hands. “You couldn’t have let it go?”

“You heard the smug bastard. Besides, you know I was never cut out for this shit.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re pissed off.”

“Maybe.” Jareth slid his hand into the pocket of his coat. At first there was nothing, and then he felt Alex’s hands wrap around his fingers in a reassuring gesture – who it was meant to reassure, he didn’t know.

Hughes watched the gesture with a faint smile. Jareth couldn’t not see the blue-and-black shadows under his eyes, the creases in his uniform, the missed buttons where he’d done everything up in a hurry – but he could see the way his collar had been folded as well, and he could imagine the quick kiss at the door, the tenderness as Gracia fixed the crooked collar, smoothed it down and then sent him out to answer the midnight call. A midnight call that, the next time, he might not return from.

Jareth swallowed. “How’s… how’s the Colonel?” He forced the title out through gritted teeth. He wasn’t sure who was watching, or listening, in rooms like this.

“She’ll be fine. A little shaken up, like the rest of us, but you know her.” Hughes grinned a little at that, and Jareth rolled his eyes. “Will’s the one I’m worried about, but I think _everyone’s_ worried about him.”

“So he –“

Hughes bit his lip. “Maybe? I don’t see who else could have done it. Although with all those bruises, I’m inclined to say it was self-defense.”

Jareth curled and uncurled his fist, the one that didn’t have Alex’s small arms wrapped around it. _Good._ Successful or not, that was something he was going to regret for a long time. Maybe regret wasn’t the right word, but if the right word _did_ exist, he didn’t know it.

Hughes got to his feet. “I’m going to check on Will. Hopefully one of the higher-ups is going to send down a proper psych doctor, because none of the people in Investigations are really equipped for this.”

“He was scheduled for the eval anyway, if he passed. Can’t be that hard.”

Hughes only shrugged at that, giving Jareth a wistful look that said far more than Hughes would ever admit to. Then he was gone.

“I’m scared,” came the small voice from his hand, hardly more than a whisper.

“It’s okay,” Jareth whispered back. “I promise you, it’ll be okay. I’ll protect you.”

* * *

Will could see shapes behind the glass. He wasn’t sure what they were – hell, he wasn’t sure what _it_ was. He thought he was in an interrogation room, which would mean that there were people behind there. But maybe it was just a mirror, and this was…a waiting room, or something.

He tried to reach upwards, but his hand stopped in mid-air with a jangle. He looked down. He was handcuffed to the chair. “Well. That’s uncomfortable.”

He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there. All he remembered was ------------------------

He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there. He supposed it didn’t matter, although he was starting to get hungry, and there was a gnawing sense of panic in his stomach that didn’t seem to have any sort of sense to it. What did he have to panic about? Nothing. Nothing at all. Except he didn’t know where Alex was.

He didn’t know where Alex was. He couldn’t protect him.

_Just the same way I couldn’t protect -------_

“Don’t do this to yourself, Will.”

Trisha Elric was sitting in the chair across from him, her hands folded demurely in her lap in a way they’d never been in life. No, those hands had always been occupied – mending clothes, washing dishes, stroking the hair of her sons and chasing away their nightmares.

Will stared resolutely down at his own mismatched hands and the cuffs that still held them prisoner. “It’s my fault,” he whispered.

“It’s not. You tried to fix it.”

“I nearly _killed_ someone. He might still die.” He wanted to feel something – rage, anger, conviction – but all he could feel was a cold mist rising behind his eyes. “And –“ There was a barrier there, too. He couldn’t say her name, could barely even _think_ of it.

“Will.”

He looked up, and with a mixed sense of relief and bitterness, felt a rush of guilt that briefly penetrated the fog. _She’s so young,_ said the dark voice inside his mind. _This is how she was when she died. Look. She’s younger than Diana is_ now, _and she died. And then you brought her back and killed her again._

But there was no trace of blame in her eyes. (Of course there wouldn’t be, insisted that voice again, she’s _you_ and nobody else). “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“Bullshit. No, it’s not.”

Her eyes suddenly lanced with light. “Then _fight._ ”

* * *

Diana had never been so glad to see her too-small, slightly musty office before. She was tempted to kiss everything in the room at least once, including the rather sad-looking pile of paperwork she’d left there…she supposed it would have been _two_ days now, what with the exam and all.

 _The exam. Have I actually slept since then?_ She decided it was probably better not to think about it. The leather couch was looking oddly tempting.

“Focus,” she muttered. She had been released, and so had Jareth, but Will was still in trouble – and nobody would tell her anything. That in itself was unusual – which meant that they were more scared of the Brigadier than they were of her.

_Or of Will._

If it were anyone else, she would have dismissed it as ridiculous. But at twelve years old, Will had a kill count of eight, nine if Shou didn’t survive, as was looking extremely likely. They had either a child soldier or a serial killer on their hands – and while Diana _wanted_ to believe that there was a third option, it was getting very difficult to be optimistic.

The phone rang, and she grabbed it, almost dropping it . “Hughes, tell me you’ve gotten a specialist down there already – what? _Who’s_ asking for him?” She paused, and then holding back a groan of frustration, she sank back in her chair.

_Just when I think I have the kid figured out…_

* * *

Will found Dr. Lowe oddly familiar. Maybe it was the receding hairline, or the bristly mustache, but he looked just like every other military man he’d seen.

“I’m telling you, nothing happened.”

“That’s okay. I believe you. Let’s focus on something else. Can you tell me about the bruises on your arm, William?”

Will looked down at his arm. He could vaguely remember something. _I’m supposed to say something._

_Hold still. I’m sorry. This is going to hurt. You know why I’m doing this, right?_

_It has to look like self-defense._

_Self-defense._

“He hit me,” he said incredulously.

“Who hit you, Will? Do you remember?” Dr. Lowe’s voice was quiet but insistent.

_I’m supposed to say it was – it was –_

“Was it ----“

“My head hurts,” Will found himself saying. _Leave me alone, you bastard. Don’t make me think so much._

Trisha was standing behind the doctor, her hands resting on the back of Lowe’s chair. If he shifted more than an inch, he would feel her – turn around, notice her, realize they were not alone. But Will knew he wouldn’t, because there wasn’t anything to notice. She slowly inclined her head. _Be brave. Fight it._

“I was trying to figure out how to reverse it,” he mumbled, rubbing the conjunction of his shoulder and torso where the automail was bolted on. “What…what he did to her.” He glanced up at Trisha, but found himself locking onto Dr. Lowe’s face despite himself. He didn’t like the doctor, but he _wanted_ to – that was the worst part. But he couldn’t like, or trust, someone with a mouth that hard or eyes that cold, even if he kept glancing away. Clearly Dr. Lowe was just as uncomfortable with Will as Will was with him.

Dr. Lowe slid something towards Will, startling him. “What?”

“Paper. And a pen. It might help.” There was no smile, but there was a nod of encouragement – from both the doctor and Trisha behind him.

Will picked up the pen, but didn’t look down. “Help with what?”

“Remembering.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is. Nothing happened.”

“You know that’s not true.” Dr. Lowe locked his fingers together, tapping them gently on the table. “I’m only trying to help.”

“Yeah? Help who?”

“Everyone. But you and Nina Tucker most of all –“

There was a splintering sound. Something wet spattered over Will’s arm and face and looking down in shock, all he could see was blood – bright red blood, drenching him in a flood of it –

-and then he could see it for what it was. He’d snapped the pen. He was spotted with black ink.

“------“ Dr. Lowe was saying something. He could see his lips moving. All he could hear was a faint buzz.

_Now or never, now or never. Now or never, now or never. Remember, you’re supposed to say, you’re supposed to say, you’re supposed to say_

He clapped his hands together, grasped the handcuffs and gave them a yank. With a glow of blue light, they crumpled and fell to the floor, useless and twisted pieces of metal.

“Wait, Will –“

He ignored him. Trisha was still there – or maybe she’d been gone for a while, but she was back now, at least. “You could tell the truth,” she said quietly. But he shook his head, moving past her and shoving past the suddenly much-less self-assured Dr. Lowe to face the two-way mirror that had so intrigued him before.

“First things first,” he said, nice and loudly, “I’m not talking to my own fucking reflection.” Again, he touched his hands together (it was coming so _easily_ now, this capability for destruction, but who did he have to thank for that?) and slammed them against the glass. It fell to pieces, revealing the tableau behind. Nothing surprising. Hughes, Solaris and of course the Great Mustachio Grand himself, reaching for his gun.

The block wanted to come up again. _Do that and you’ll spend another week in this room. Who knows how long it’s been already?_ So he forced the words out, even though they scorched his throat as they emerged. _Blood on his hands, blood on his hands –_ “I was trying to reverse it. I was trying to fix her. And he – Sh-Shou Tucker – started hitting me. So…” He swallowed. Lying was easy. The truth was hard. “So I hit him back.” _End of story._ “Now. _Stop. Talking._ ”

And the last thing he saw was what looked like a very worried but very proud look on the Colonel’s face, before the floor came up to greet him, and finally there was nothing but the comfort of the darkness and the silence at last.

* * *

Selim Bradley showed up at the hospital about a half-hour afterwards. He swore up and down it was a coincidence, and Jareth almost believed him. Alex certainly seemed to. Will – well, he was unconscious, so it didn’t matter what he thought yet. Still, it was a _hell_ of a coincidence.

But, standing outside Will’s room, standing watch as Alex told Selim everything and pretending he wasn’t listening, Jareth couldn’t find it in him to care how strange it was. Will would wake up to a friendly face – one that _hadn’t_ given him bruises while apologizing, one that hadn’t cajoled him into lying through his teeth and nearly broken his mind in the process. Diana still couldn’t meet Jareth’s eyes.

There was a buzz from the walkie-talkie on his belt. “ _Valjean, do you copy?”_ He pressed the receiver. “This is Lieutenant Valjean.”

” _It’s Havoc, reporting in hourly as commanded. Over.”_

“What’s your progress? Over.”

_“Nothing yet. We’ll find her, though, sir. We’ve covered northwest blocks A1 through A13…”_

* * *

 

Miles away from the search party, limping on sore feet that could barely carry her weight, Nina Tucker wasn’t thinking about much except the pain in every cell of her body. She wanted water, she wanted food, she wanted sleep – she wanted her nice warm bed, and she wanted a bedtime story. So she was walking in a vague direction hoping that eventually somebody would pick her up and take her home.

She ran into something solid and fell over with a whimper. Walking on four legs was _weird,_ but she couldn’t walk on two legs anymore. Besides, every time she tried, Alexander complained.

“Poor thing,” murmured a low, rumbling voice. She liked it. The person she’d run into leant over her, and she butted her head weakly into his chest. Strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her into his lap. “Who did this to you?”

Nina ignored him. “Hurts…”

“Do you want it to stop?”

She nodded, eyes closed.

He held her head close to his chest, and with a quick snap, it was over. Then, whispering the holy words of Ishvala, he fed her to the beast.

 


	22. The Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by In This Moment.
> 
> Trigger warning: childbirth/pregnancy, smoking, suicide mention, fugue/mental illness, death mention

~22~

_No matter how dark the road_

_You’ll light my way_

_No matter how far my home_

_I’ll find my way_

**_-The Road_ **

 

                Gracia was perfectly happy to leave the intrigue up to her husband. He was up to his ears in whispers and lies and backstabbing every day – well, he was welcome to it. She wasn’t going to have _any_ part in it. That was her one rule; work _stayed_ at work.

                She glanced at the clock, pursing her lips and scrubbing at the dish in her hands a little more violently than was necessary. That rule only worked when your _husband_ didn’t _stay_ at work. He’d been called in in the wee hours of the morning almost two days ago, and while he’d called her every two hours to let her know he was ok, it was still a bother.

                The phone rang, and Gracia dropped the plate she was holding back into the water with a clatter as she dove for it. “Maes?”

                _“Gracia! Darling! Did I startle you?”_

She laughed despite herself, sitting down with a quiet groan. She hadn’t anticipated just how awkward it got, trying to move yourself around when you got the size of a blimp. _And he’s off spending time with that Colonel…_ she thought uncharitably, but dismissed it. Maes was… well, Maes. And no matter what her opinion of Diana Solaris was, she trusted her husband.

                “A little bit. I’m alright. Are you coming home soon?”

                _“Um…maybe? But I have a very, very important question for you…”_

Gracia laughed again, twirling the phone cord around her finger. “Well, you’ve already asked me to marry you. I can’t think of anything else.”

                _“There’s, um… Well, I, er… It has to do with the boy I’ve been taking care of for the last few days.”_

“…Boy? Taking care of?” Gracia blinked, dropping the phone cord. “Maes, what have you been doing?”

                _“There was some trouble. Well, he got into trouble.”_ There was a sigh. _“It’s pretty grisly. He’s had a tough life, and the alchemist he was staying with…”_ The line went silent. Gracia thought for a moment he had hung up, but the steady pace of his breathing was still there, making the phone crackle with static. _“…I’ll spare you the details. Point is, he’s waiting on word on whether he passed the exam or not, and he doesn’t have anywhere to stay. Currently he’s at the hospital under trauma watch, but there’s a three day limit on that, and his friend can’t exactly stay there with him.”_

“His friend?”

                _“Showed up at the hospital minutes after Will was checked in, although apparently he’d been thinking about visiting for a while. Obviously, he’s not planning on leaving anytime soon.”_

“I know where this is going, Maes. You’re the one who wanted to adopt the entire population of a cat shelter.”

                Maes chuckled, but she could hear the nervousness in his voice. _“What do you think, then?”_

“To letting a suicidal man stay in our house with his girlfriend?”

                _“Will’s not exactly old enough to be called a man. And Selim’s certainly not his girlfriend.”_

Gracia paused at that. “Maes… _how_ young is this boy?” Boy. Not man.

                “He’s going to be thirteen in about two weeks. Selim’s a year younger.”

                “And he’s here, _alone?_ ” Gracia’s hand involuntarily moved to her stomach. “Where are their parents?”

                _“Selim’s father is back in their hometown. No mother. Will’s parents are dead._ ”

                Gracia swallowed, swallowed again. “…Oh, all _right!_ But we’re going to talk about contingency measures when you get home, understood?”

                “ _Contingency measures? I really have rubbed off on you._ ”

                “Don’t get used to it. I sell flowers and keep house, not chase down criminals and…whatever else it is you do.”

                Maes laughed again, and this time it sounded real. “ _We’ll be home within the next hour.”_

“I love you.”

                _“I love you too. See you soon!”_

                Gracia held the phone to her ear long after Maes’ phone had disconnected, the dial tone echoing through the line until the smooth voice of the operator clicked in. “ _Would you like to contact someone else, Ma’am?”_

She had to think about it, then she shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts from her mind. “No, that’s fine.”

                It looked like she was going to be a parent a little earlier than she’d bargained for.

* * *

                Selim wasn’t sure he liked Central. He was a homebody at heart – he’d never had Will’s adventurous spirit – and there was something very off-putting about the asphalt roads and the stink of petrol in the air. The car itself didn’t improve his mood. It stank of patent leather and cigarette smoke, and even as he wrinkled his nose, he realized the man driving them actually had a cigarette hanging from his lips.

                “Hey, kids.” He gave the three of them a salute, nodding meaningfully at Will. “Hang in there, alright?”

                Will glanced up and gave the driver a quick, faint smile before sliding in next to the window and resting his head against the glass.

                “And you’re his friend from the country, right?”

                Selim tried not to cough. “Uh, yes. Selim Bradley.”

                “I’d shake your hand but I can’t reach back there. 2nd Lieutenant Jean Havoc at your service.”

                Hughes collapsed into the other front seat. “Do you like apple pie?”

                “What?”

                He twisted his head over the seat. “Apple pie! Gracia makes the _best_ apple pie in the whole world.”

                Selim shrugged. “I like apple pie.” He glanced over at Will, who was now scowling in Hughes’ general direction. “Will does too. Right, Will?” There was a noncommittal sound from the other end of the leather seat.

                Hughes grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes – oof!” Will kicked the back of Hughes’ seat with his automail, still scowling. Hughes laughed it off, but Selim could sense the unease with which he settled back down into his place. “Alright, home we go!”

                _Trust me, that’s all I want to do._ But Selim wasn’t going anywhere, not unless Will and Alex were coming with him.

                He watched Central pass by, trying not to think too much. _What am I going to tell Dad?_ He wasn’t going to think about that. _What happened?_ He wasn’t going to think about that either. Instead, he rested his head on his arms, looked up at the sky and tried to pretend he was back home.

* * *

                “Gracia, I’m home!” Hughes swept through the door before Selim even had a chance to process that they were there. There was the sound of giggling, a few smacks, and then the door was opened the rest of the way.

                Selim gulped and put on his most genuine smile. Gracia was…shockingly unthreatening, actually. She was shorter than Hughes, with cropped brown hair and a floral-print dress that stretched precariously over her stomach. “N-Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hughes.”

                “Oh, please, call me Gracia. You’re Selim, then?”

                He nodded, glancing over at Will, who had his hands by his sides and was studiously avoiding his eyes. “And, uh, this is Will. Will Elric.”

                Gracia eyed Will with what appeared to be trepidation. Selim couldn’t exactly blame her. He nudged Will gently, but he shrugged it off. “A-anyway, thanks for letting us stay here. I’m sorry for imposing –“

                “Don’t worry about it,” she said gently. “Come on in. Can I get you anything?”

                “Um, not for me. Will would probably appreciate a glass of water, though.”

                Gracia certainly raised an eyebrow at that. “I think I can manage that.” She walked back into the house, and trying not to feel too self-conscious, Selim followed, checking quickly over his shoulder to make sure Will was following him. He didn’t really think Will would just wander off or anything, but he’d never seen him so…well… ‘distracted’ was the kindest term he could think of.

                “Here you go.” Gracia handed Will a glass, and he took it, mumbling something that Selim hoped was a ‘thank-you’. “So you’re from the country?”

                “Uh, yes. Rizenbul. It’s in the southeast, near the border.” At Gracia’s request to hear about it, he chattered on, hoping he didn’t say anything too stupid, keeping an eye on Will the whole time. Will’s behaviour had been unnerving before – now it was downright upsetting.

                “Is he alright?” she asked suddenly. Selim cut off, almost choking on what he’d been about to say (something about the sheep festival).

                “Who, Will? Yeah, he’s fine, just, uh, quiet today.” Will _wasn’t_ fine. Selim could feel it boiling under the surface, radiating off of him in waves – it wasn’t anger or misery so much as an enduring, deep apathy that sank into Selim’s bones and threatened to overwhelm him just by proximity.

                “Is he…” Gracia frowned. “Is he all there? You know –“

                “I can hear you, you know,” Will said sullenly. Gracia started, almost dropping her glass.

                Selim was less surprised. Instead, he was _angry._  “Oh, you’ve finally decided to talk to me?”

                “Well, _yeah,_ you’ve got everybody convinced I’m brain-dead,” Will spat. He got up and started for the door.

                “Wait! Please, um…” Gracia got to her feet, groaning a little and leaning on the table for support. “Please, don’t leave. I misspoke. I’m sorry. I can’t begin to understand what you’ve been through.”

                Selim watched Will’s shoulders rise and fall. He didn’t respond, but Selim knew better now than to think that Will hadn’t heard her. Already that flicker of anger had faded – now he was just hoping Will wasn’t going to stay angry at _him._

                “I have a room made up for the both of you. If you’d like some time to yourself I can show you where it is.”

                Will’s shoulders collapsed, and he pushed his hair back from his face, taking a deep breath. “…Nah. I don’t want to make you walk around more than you need to. Just, uh, tell me where it is and I’ll…yeah.” His voice shook on the last word, and he bent his head forward, green strands falling in front of his eyes again.

                “Just up the stairs and to the left, the room after the nursery.”

                Will flinched at the word ‘nursery’, but nodded, disappearing into the house.

                As soon as he was gone, Gracia exhaled and leaned her face into her hands. After a moment, she looked up at Selim. “Okay, be honest with me here,” she said in a voice completely different from the overly-sweet tone she’d adopted before. “What have I gotten myself into?”

                Selim tried to smile comfortingly, but from her expression, he could tell it had fallen flat. “I wish I knew.”

                “He’s not going to murder me in my sleep, right? Please, _please,_ guarantee me that.”

               “Of course not! Will’s – he’s my friend. He’s just going through a tough time right now.”

               “The automail?”

               “Fairly recent. It’s about a year old. Actually, I should give him a tune-up.”

                Gracia actually smiled in surprise. “You’re his automail mechanic?”

                “Kind of. I helped build the set he’s wearing, but my dad’s the real mechanic. I’m still learning.”

                “Your dad – back in Rizenbul?” Gracia suddenly looked suspicious again. “He… _does_ know you’re here, right? I’m not a home for teenage runaways.”

                 “I’m not even a teenager!”

                Gracia chuckled. “Close enough. You’re twelve?”

                “Eleven.” Selim noticed her hand move to her stomach. “Is there anything I can do to help around the house?”

                “Oh, I wish all eleven-year-olds were as polite as you. As a matter of fact…”

* * *

                Once Will had barricaded himself in the guest room, he collapsed to the floor. He hadn’t spoken more than two sentences, but it felt like he’d run a marathon. “Alex?” he said quietly.

                Alex climbed onto his shoulder from under his hair. “She seems nice,” he offered, but even that was subdued.

                Will picked him up and placed him on the carpet in front of him. “What now?”

                Alex shrugged. “I was kind of hoping you knew.”

                “Fuck.” He slammed his head against the door, then again, and again. “ _Fuck_ this.”

                “Hey – hey! Don’t hurt yourself.”

                “Bit late for that now, isn’t it, Alex?” Will folded his arms over his shoulders, hugging himself tightly as if it would hold him together. “Can’t go home. Can’t stay here, not after…”

                “We have to stay, Will. You don’t even know if you passed the exam or not yet.”

                “ _Fuck the stupid exam!_ ” he cried out. “If I wasn’t so obsessed with passing the damn thing we wouldn’t be in this mess and Nina –“

                “-would still have gotten hurt.” Alex’s voice was breaking but clear enough for Will to know that Alex had thought about this too – had run events over and over in his mind, trying to figure out what they could have done differently, and apparently they’d both come to the same conclusion – not a goddamn thing.

                It didn’t really help.

                It also didn’t help that Selim had shown up when he did, either. On one hand it was good to have a familiar face, but Selim had always been able to know exactly what Will was feeling, even if he didn’t understand why. And right now, Will didn’t want _anyone_ knowing how much he blamed himself. He could lie to the Colonel and Valjean, given some time – he could even lie to Alex, not extensively, but enough – but he couldn’t lie to Selim. Dodge around the subject, maybe – but never outright lie.

                “That apple pie Hughes was talking about sounded really good,” said Alex mournfully. “I’ll have to try some once I have my body back.”

                Will found himself smiling. “Until then, I’ll just eat your share.”

                They would stay, then.

* * *

                The leaves, already burnished with copper, fell from the trees, followed rather quickly by the first light snow, which melted almost as soon as it came.  Shou Tucker died quietly in his sleep after a prolonged coma. Gracia Hughes came to admit – but _only_ to her husband – that she’d gotten quite used to having ‘the boys’ around. The dreaded transfer order that Colonel Solaris had been waiting for finally landed on her desk, as she knew it would after the whole debacle at and after the exam. All in all, things were happening just as they were meant to - or at least expected to – with the exception that Nina Tucker had not been found.

                “Wow, you made this?”

                “Don’t sound so surprised,” complained Selim, flushing at the compliment.

                Hughes grinned and clapped Selim on the back. “It’s the best apple pie I’ve ever tasted – uh, short of yours, dear,” he added quickly.

                Will rolled his eyes, then smothered laughter, probably at some comment from Alex that nobody else had heard. He was still quiet, but there was light in his eyes now – the darkness had receded, and it had left its mark, but it was progress. Selim was thankful, both for Will’s sake and a little selfishly as well. He missed home, and he’d sworn to only stay until the results for the exam were in. However long _that_ would take.

                Gracia blew a raspberry at Hughes as she walked into the kitchen – and suddenly, there was a crash and a tremendous yell. It took Selim a moment to realize that it had come from _Gracia._

                “Maes!” she yelled, and before another second had passed, both Maes and Selim were rushing to the kitchen, Will just behind.

                “What’s wrong?” Hughes asked, and the look Gracia gave him could have killed lesser men.

                “I’m having a _baby,_ you _imbecile!_ ”

                 Hughes blinked in shock. “But – I thought it wasn’t due for another month -?”

                “I said _about_ a month, three weeks ago, now go get the doctor!” She gasped again, clutching her stomach. “ _Go!_ ” Hughes didn’t waste any more time, dashing out of the door with a yelp.

                “Good, he’s out of the way,” she groaned.

                “Out of the way?” Selim parroted, blinking in confusion as Will crouched down next to Gracia.

                “You know how Maes is,” she groaned, “The minute things get bad he’s going to start whimpering over me. Sweet and all but – _augh_ –not very helpful. Besides, look outside.”

                Selim turned his head. The snow was coming down again – but this time, it didn’t look like it was going to stop. Even as he watched, a gust of wind bellowed against the window, sending the snowfall almost vertical.

                Gracia smiled grimly. “He’s not going to get to the doctor in time. I’ll need the doctor after, but this baby is coming anyway.”            

                “So what do we do?”

                “You’re going to help me through labour.”

                Something stalled in Selim’s head. “ _What?_ ”

                “You’re an automail mechanic, aren’t you? You know how the human body works. Besides, I’ll talk you through the tough parts.” Gracia winced and cried out again. “And like I said, this baby isn’t waiting for _anybody._ ”

                “But I –“

                “You can do it, Selim,” said Will quietly. “I’ll help, too. Gracia, what do you need?”

                “Some towels and a basin of hot water.”

                Will got to his feet, and then reached up and carefully, concealing him in his hands, placed Alex on Selim’s shoulder. “Stay hidden if you can,” he murmured. “And before either of you freak out, there is going to be a _lot_ of blood.”

                “I wasn’t going to freak out,” whined Alex, but Selim just nodded, hoping his face didn’t look as ashen as it felt.

                But, hey. What was life without a little panic?

* * *

                Selim found Will in the hall just outside the nursery, listening in on the sounds of celebration. “…Hi.”

                “Hey.” Will’s knees were drawn up to his chest. Selim sat down next to him, exhaling and leaning back on the wall as he waited for Will to say something.

                “So Alex is inside?”

                “Hiding behind the lamp, giggling over a baby and hoping nobody sees him.”

                Will snorted at that. “I _really_ should have used a different container. You know there was a suit of armour in the room? If I wasn’t dizzy from blood loss I would have gone with that.”

                “I dunno, would have been harder to hide. Her name’s Elysia, by the way.”

                “I heard.” Something was wrong with Will’s voice. Selim reached forward and pulled Will’s hair out of the way, tucking it behind his ear. Will flinched even at this gesture, and now Selim could see why – he was crying silently, tears streaming down his cheeks.

                “Will, what’s wrong?”

                “Really?”

                “I mean…like… at this specific moment,” he added lamely.

                “I can’t look at her,” Will whispered. “I keep thinking about Nina. She’s probably _dead,_ Selim, and even if she’s not, she’s only four, and she’s lost somewhere…”

                Selim wrapped his arms around Will and pulled him close, letting the older boy’s head rest on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

                “Don’t be. S’not your fault,” was the muttered response.

                “Remember what everyone used to tell us, every time we lost someone?” They’d heard all the same platitudes, the regrets, the attempts at comfort. Something about boys losing their mothers brought out a lot of the more condescending epigrams on sorrow and grief.

                “Yeah, yeah. It gets easier. I’m not exactly a stellar example of how to handle grief, Selim.”

                “It _does,_ though. And you know I mean it. Besides, you’ll be seeing a lot of Elysia, if you pass the exam.”

                Will suddenly looked very guilty. “I…I meant to show this to you earlier.” He picked up an envelope from beside him, but instead of handing it to Selim, he turned it over in his hands, again and again. “It came three days ago,” he muttered.

                “You were accepted.”

                “Yeah. I’m the Fullmetal Alchemist.” He snorted. “Bullshit name, really.”

                “Are you having second thoughts?”

                “Kind of? I took care of most of _those,_ and I know I want to go through with it. I just know that you’re leaving, and…” He shrugged.

                Selim wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Dad’s been talking about sending me to school.”

                “What, like _proper_ school?”

                “Prep school. Boarding school, that kind of thing.”

                Will smiled, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Fucking hell, you’re going to be a snot by the time you’re done.”

                “Never.”

                “That’s true, you’re already a snot.”

                “Jerk.”

                “Pansy.”

                There was the sound of laughter and cooing from inside the room. Selim tugged gently on Will’s hair. “You should go in and meet her.”

                “In a minute. I’m comfortable.”

                “Alright.”

                Will leant his head on Selim’s shoulder and closed his eyes. “I’m gonna miss you.”

                “I’ll miss you too. Try not to get into too much trouble, alright?”

                “Yeah. Right. Like that’s _ever_ worked.”

* * *

                Selim left a few days later, waving goodbye from the window of the train. Once it was out of sight, Will trudged dutifully back to the hub of the train station. “Hello – hello?”

                The man at the ticket booth glanced up. “Yeah?” he mumbled through his chewing tobacco.

                “I need a ticket for the 4:30 to East City.”

                “How will you be paying?” he mumbled again, barely audible.

                “Put it on the military bill.”

                “Military?” The man snorted, then hocked a lump of tar-coloured spit into a bucket on the floor. “You’re too young for military.”

                Will grinned and slid the pocket watch over the counter. Alex was already buzzing excitedly in his ear about adventure and sights and all sorts of things - he was just happy to finally feel like they were headed somewhere. “I’m the Fullmetal Alchemist.”


	23. The Times They Are A-Changin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Bob Dylan with particular reference to the Blackmore's Night cover. (Yes, you should be listening to these.)
> 
> Trigger warning: transphobia/transmisogyny, casual ableism, body horror, death, implied sexual assault.

~23~

_Come gather round people wherever you roam_

_And admit that the waters around you have grown…._

_It’ll soon shake your windows and rattle your walls_

_For the times, they are a-changin’…_

**_-The Times They Are A-Changin’_ **

****

**THREE YEARS LATER**

                His wrist hurt. He hadn’t anticipated that. Also, his nose itched.

                “What did you _expect?_ ”

                “I don’t know!” Will whined back, already regretting having shared his thoughts. “It’s not like I’ve been handcuffed before!”

                Alex huffed. “It won’t be much longer.”

                “How do you know _that?_ ”

                “I don’t. I just thought it might make you shut your mouth and maybe not make her wonder who you’re talking to.”

                Will considered that a fair point and stifled the urge to make a snarky comment back. It still sucked, though. There wasn’t much else to pay attention to in the dingy cell he’d been thrown rather gracelessly into, aside from the rather pressing question of why a church _had_ a prison cell to begin with.

                Right on cue, there were soft footsteps outside, followed by the clink of the lock and the creak of the door. It was a pretty basic lock from the sounds of it – so it was a prison cell, but a rather poor one. Then the door swung open, and a girl walked in with a tray of food and a face like she’d just swallowed a spoonful of cough medicine.

                “Rose! Finally made time for me?”

                “I brought you some food,” she responded tartly. _Good for her,_ thought Will with some admiration. He hadn’t thought Rose was capable of tart.

                “Say, any word on what’s going to happen?”

                “Happen?” And the naïve, slightly-glazed-over look was back. Will called upon all of his strength not to roll his eyes. “I don’t –“

                “Is the plan to keep me locked up in here forever? Because people are going to _notice._ ”

                “N-no…” Rose put the tray down on the ground. Will heard her take a deep breath, saw her hands shake. As she straightened up, she clasped her hands together in front of her. “Father Cornello is trying to teach you a lesson about interfering in the matters of God. A lesson which you should have been taught _long_ ago.”

                “ _Right,_ and bringing someone back from the dead is only interfering with God when _I_ do it. What’s it like being a hypocritical, sanctimonious bitch?”

                Her eyes flashed at that one. “I’ve dedicated my _life_ to being worthy of this gift! And you – you – you’re an _abomination!”_

                “And proud. You’re just jealous because I’m prettier than you.”

                “That’s not what I –!“ With a scream of rage she whirled out of the room, too angry to notice the passenger holding onto her skirt-hem. Unfortunately, she _did_ remember to shut the door.

                Will pouted at that for a moment, but then shrugged. He rattled the chains of the manacles that pinned him to the wall experimentally, then clapped his hands together and tapped them against the steel. They clicked open with a whisper. With a self-satisfied grin, he grabbed the tray of food, crossed his legs and started eating.

* * *

                Rose didn’t stop running until she was in the foyer of the church itself, out from the drafty, cold basement and well, _well_ away from the monster she’d made the mistake of even letting into the sanctuary of Leto. She hadn’t meant to – she’d seen a teenage traveller, a little misguided perhaps, with scars and automail from some grievous injury – and Leto’s tracts told all his followers to give shelter to the weary, food to the hungry and aid to the ill. Will, with his lean, wary look, certainly seemed to fit all three.

                And then he’d seen Father Cornello’s miracles.

                She pulled herself up into one of the pews and rested her head against the cool wood, unaware all the time that she was being watched not by one but by two pairs of eyes. “Leto, god of sun and warmth and light, bless me with your fire, see how I do your works, hear how I praise your name, feel my faith and send me my hope in return…”

                Someone laid a hand gently on her shoulder. She jolted, swiveling around, then exhaling in relief when she realized who it was. “Father Cornello.”

                “Thank you, Rose, for your patience with the prisoner, and with me. I have something special for you. I know you’ve waited a very, very long time.” He smiled, laugh-lines crinkling.

                “You mean –“

                “Yes, Rose, I do. Come with me.”

                She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe. Even as she followed Cornello up the winding stairs, she kept catching herself and having to lean on the banister for support. Each time, the Father noticed, backtracked, took her arm and guided her gently a little farther up, murmuring words of support.

                And then, finally, they were at the top of the tower, in Cornello’s private rooms, and there was a closed door in front of her. She reached for the doorknob, then hesitated. “Can I –“

                “Absolutely.”

                She opened it with exaggerated care, barely even noticing the tears streaming down her cheeks. There was a bed in the middle of the room, a curtain around it – and a shape behind the curtain.

                “Kain -?” she whispered.

                “Rose…”

                “ _Kain!_ ” She rushed into the room – and the door clicked closed behind her. She turned around. “F-Father-?”

                “Well, that takes care of you. Now I just need to kill that pesky prisoner. He knows too much,” came a voice from the other side of the door – one with a distinctly gloating tone.

                A chill ran down her spine. “What – what do you _mean,_ he knows too much? You can’t- you can’t kill him! You can’t do that, he’s just a kid, he’s _just a kid!_ ” She threw herself at the door, beating at it with her fists. “Kain, please –“

                “Rose…”

                “Kain, can’t you –“ She made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder, and shrieked as the curtain was torn away by a mouth that was distinctly _not_ human. She only had time to process the feathers strewn around the room in various lurid shades of green before there was a piercing cry and a flash of brilliant blue light.

                She opened her eyes slowly, only having been vaguely aware of closing them in the first place. Her head was ringing. Something must have hit her. There was a doll standing in the middle of the room, and it turned to face her.

                Something had definitely hit her. She squeezed her eyes shut again.

                “Don’t worry, you’re not going crazy.”

                She was _definitely_ going crazy. She shook her head mutely.

                “My name is Alex Elric. I’m the abomination’s brother. And no, you’re not the first to call him that.”

                This time, Rose opened her eyes completely. The doll waved at her. She tried, very hard, and not completely successfully, not to shriek again. “He cursed someone _else_ along with him?!”

                “I was a participant. As you can see, I kind of got the raw end of the deal.”

                “But how is that _possible?_ ”

                “Desperation, luck, and talent. Also my embarrassing habit of carrying a wooden doll around with me. At least it had joints.”

                Rose managed to nod somewhat serenely at that. As insane as it all sounded, it was starting to make a strange amount of internal sense. Then she actually looked at the mutated bird-corpse beyond Alex, and screamed again.

                “Could you _please_ stop screaming?”

                “What are you talking about? This is a _normal reaction!_ ”

                He actually considered that for a moment. “Fair point. I guess I’m used to weird.”

                “Weird got used to _you._ You don’t even have _fingers!_ ” Then reality started to catch up. “F-Father Cornello – he – he tried to… he tried to _kill me!_ And he’s going to kill your brother, and your brother was _right,_ and, and, and…oh _no…_ ”

                “Don’t panic too much,” said Alex drily, “Will’s still an asshole. At least that part of your worldview is still intact.”

* * *

                “Everything else went as planned. Cornello showed up to an empty cell, pursued the rampant alchemist right up to his quarters, and proceeded to spill his entire evil plan movie-villain-style to a broadcasting radio.

                “Then, of _course,_ everything went to shit. His ring turned out to be a _fake_ Philosopher’s Stone and started rebounding in a bad, bad way. It turned him into a huge, hulking, veiny monster that started smashing up his church and _obviously_ the Fullmetal Alchemist had to take care of that, with all his usual panache and glamour –

                “That is _not_ how it happened.”

                “No?”

                “Not even a little bit.” Alex sighed and turned back to the Colonel, who was managing to keep a straight face. “The Stone backlashed on him all right, which is why we don’t have it. The real Stone wouldn’t do that. But he just crawled off somewhere to suffer – we never found him, but he’ll be pretty identifiable with an arm that’s half gun, half blood-soaked stuff of nightmares.”

                Will rolled his eyes. “ _Fine._ It was more fun with a monster, though.”

                “What happened to the church, then?”

                “Oh, that was the Liorans. They weren’t particularly happy with Cornello. Or with us, as it turns out.” He rubbed the graze on his head ruefully. “Got a couple stones thrown at us before Rose got us out of town.”

                “Will she be alright?”

                “Oh, she’ll be fine. She’s the baby of the town.”

                The Colonel flipped through the report again. “Oh good, you have the real version in here. Well, better luck next time, boys. I was hoping that one would pan out.” She tucked it away. “Now I’m ordering downtime for _both_ of you. Fullmetal, you especially. Dr. Holland’s been asking after you.”

                “Oh, _fuck_ him –“

                “These appointments are mandated by the Fuhrer himself,” Diana warned. “And you’ve dodged out of them successfully for two months now. That’s a new record.”

                “I’ll beat it next time.”

                “I hope you don’t. I have money riding on it.”

                Will glared at her. “You bet _against_ me?” Then he got up with a huff. “Well, fine. I’m not staying put for more than a week, though.”

                “Two weeks. You’re running yourself ragged.”

                “What do you care?”

                “I care if you end up in hospital and I have to send other people to do _your_ job, Fullmetal. Now go and do things that don’t end up destroying buildings. Alex, make sure he _listens_ to me.”

                “Why do you always give me the difficult jobs?” Alex whined.

                “And why are you two always asking me questions?” She threw up her hands. “Now shoo. I’m busy.”

                Will actually growled at her a little. He was slouched over one of her office-chairs and looking quite comfortable, green hair hanging in long spikes down his back and over his headband. He’d managed to end up looking neater yet more feral than when he’d first arrived at East City three years ago, his muscles more defined, his cheekbones sharper, his voice richer (but not that much deeper). He still wore the same garbage though, although for mobility purposes he wore black shorts under his skirts and slit said skirts almost all the way up to the waist. Which, ultimately, was _more_ provocative. Oh well.

                The Colonel used the same tactic as always when he was being annoying, which was to studiously ignore him until he got bored and left. Unfortunately, this had the side effect of actually making her work.

                “Diana.”

                “Mm. Yes?” She looked up, trying very hard not to yawn. “Oh, Lieutenant.”

                Jareth grinned. “I just missed them, didn’t I?”

                “Yes, and you missed the most _riveting_ story of destruction, mayhem and havoc I’ve ever heard. About half of it was bullshit, of course.”

                “Will’s half?”

                Diana nodded and smiled wryly at that. “So what are you here to tell me?”

                Jareth’s good humour dropped like the mask it was. “Hughes called. There’s been another murder.”

                “Oh, crap.” She got to her feet. “Who is it this time?”

                “Brigadier General Grand.”

* * *

                The milling crowds passed by in the noonday light. Some knew that there had been another murder in this, the capital of their great and noble country; others didn’t and couldn’t care less. Very few, however, noticed the man leaning against the wall, watching them pass by with an unreadable look on his face. He was tall, young, handsome and foreign; all features that at least one overly-familiar stranger should have commented on. But none did.

                Then, between breath and breath, another figure appeared beside him, white skirt flickering slightly in the breeze as she sat down next to him, peering upwards and shading her eyes. “Really? You didn’t even lift a finger to save him?”

                “We don’t want our presence known to _anyone,_ Sloth. Besides, I’d already told Grand I wasn’t stepping in on his behalf. His usefulness was quickly coming to an end.”

                “So cold! You’re sounding like me.”

                He grinned at that. “Well, _you_ wouldn’t help anyone unless your life depended on it.”

                The girl, younger than him, brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I have some good news, by the way,” she said airily.

                “Good news?”

                “The situation in Lior has been salvaged.”

                “Ah, you got Pride to stir his stumps after all. Let me guess, you appealed to his ego.”

                “We’re all so predictable.” She followed his eyeline to where a young couple sat on a café patio, clearly fighting. The woman was distressed, and hadn’t noticed her blouse buttons coming undone. “Just try not to kill her this time. There are enough suspicious deaths here these days.”

                “I can’t help it if my passions overwhelm me.”

                “I suppose if it really can’t be helped – at least _try_ to make it look like an accident.”

                “Oh, before you vanish on me, one question.”

                “Yes?” she responded with no shortage of frustration.

                “Does the name ‘Elric’ mean anything to you?”

                She hesitated a little, shook her head – then paused again. “Hold on, that was the State Alchemist in Lior. Fullmetal. What about him?”

                The man shrugged. “I was just curious. That’s all.” He turned his attention back to the crowd and the woman, who was now gathering her things into her purse, dropping things as she went. She marched off, hardly looking where she went through her tears. The man smoothed his face into a helpful, concerned expression, pushed away from the wall and followed her.

                The girl beside him was long gone.


	24. Blank Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Taylor Swift.
> 
> Trigger warning: body horror, minor misogynistic slur, gore/death reference.

~24~

_Cause you know I love the players, and you love the game_

_Cause we're young and we're reckless, we'll take this way too far_

_It'll leave you breathless, or with a nasty scar_

**_-Blank Space_ **

 

“I don’t understand,” huffed Diana, tugging a brush through her unruly curls. “There’s been a killer in Central for a month now, and he–“

“-or _it-_ “ Jareth added ominously.

“-killed Grand and four other State Alchemists. So why is the solution to _that_ -“ she winced as a particularly bad patch got tangled with itself and she had to pry it apart, “-to bring everybody high-ranking to East City?”

“I guess they figure this place is enough of a backwater that what’s-his-name will turn up his nose at it.”

“Or he’ll take advantage of lowered security!” Diana finally got her brush through the most obvious knots then threw it aside with a snarl. “I’m telling you, this is the Fuhrer’s way of getting back at me for the exam.”

“I thought transferring us here was the revenge.”

“Well, clearly he’s not done!” Diana crumpled into her chair, rubbing her temples. “Okay, review – Lieutenant-Colonel Mayfeather’s team is collaborating with the main Security team for lockdown and screening procedures. Hughes is bringing a handpicked crew from Investigations and they’ll take point, and they’ll take…um…”

“Diana, get some _sleep.”_

“I don’t need sleep, I need things to work the way they’re meant to –“

“That includes you.”

“I’m functioning just fine, thank you very much.” Diana mumbled a few more things to herself. “Besides, I don’t think there’s anything else to do – oh, except make sure the Elrics actually _read_ the memo.”

Jareth pulled a face at that. “I’ve _told_ you, Colonel or not, you can’t order me to babysit them.”

“I can but I won’t. If they read it, they read it – if they don’t, Will’s going to hear about it when his security detail shows up.” At a surprised sound from Jareth, Diana glanced up and gave him a wry smile. “He’s not exactly safety-conscious, Valjean.”

“What about the others?”

“Most people have their own, but I’ve assigned special details to some of the more junior alchemists. Major Alfredson especially – he’s no good in combat.”

“Which leaves you.” Jareth fingered his holstered gun. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

Diana took another deep breath, then opened her drawer and pulled out the blue ribbon she only used for ceremonial dress. She pulled her hair back into a bun and tied it in place, smoothing away the last few unruly bits of frizz, and then placed her cap over top, adjusting it over her ears. “T-minus one hour.”

* * *

As Colonel Solaris had predicted, neither Will nor Alex had the slightest clue that many of the members of the highest echelons of the Amestrian military were currently on a train headed for East City. It would have been surprising if they _had,_ since General Grumman himself had only been alerted the day before, and Will had taken pains to avoid both Eastern Command and the threat of his therapist within.

Unfortunately, nothing outside Eastern Command was proving particularly fruitful – although it was worth asking how much of that was Will’s own fault.

“Of all the things to have a talent for, Will.”

“It’s not _my_ fault! I was just asking a question!”

“Loudly. And angrily. She was what, twenty?”

“And I’m fifteen. She shoulda sucked it up and told me where the books were.”

Alex groaned. “There aren’t any more! You’ve read them all!”

“I don’t believe it.”

“And _that,_ dear brother of mine, is how you managed to get kicked out of a library,” muttered Alex.

Will simply harrumphed and pushed off from the stairs, brushing some dirt off of his black clothes. Three years and they’d found nothing – false starts, leads that led to nothing, alchemical feats that ultimately were very interesting and very useless – but nothing even remotely resembling a Philosopher’s Stone. Cornello, though… Cornello had been different. Alex knew that there were alchemical amplifiers that could give even mediocre alchemists boosts in power and strength, but none that could ignore the basic laws.

It was more than that that made Alex pause, though. He’d been on the verge of bringing it up to Will, but some of their shared memories weren’t ever discussed _._ And he didn’t know how to express the fear that the power they were searching for would be used for all the wrong things, on all the wrong things, on innocent people like Rose and Nina Tucker.

The answer to that was simple. You didn’t think about it, you didn’t discuss it, and you hoped that ultimately you were doing the right thing.

“That’s it.” Will punched his fist into his hand with a determined expression. “I’m marching into the Colonel’s office and _telling_ her to give me a lead.”

“…Why?”

“Oh come on, you know she has _something._ Her secrets have secrets, Alex! Besides, even if she doesn’t know anything, she’ll know somebody who knows somebody. You know how it works.”

Alex would have rolled his eyes if he could have. “Will –“ But it was too late – he was already marching off towards the headquarters, having quite settled on the idea. Alex sat back, studied the arrays painted on his hands and prepared himself for damage control.

* * *

He was so hungry. The beast was crying out from within him, wailing with its grotesque voice in protest. Even his own human appetite was suffering – but he pushed on. There were stronger forces at play, other appetites to sate.

 _Ya Ishvala sa’edna,_ cried the ghosts within him. _Min fadlik..._ Others murmured in older languages. _Emas boethe, emas soze, emas eleuthere… amabo te, nos libera…_

His affliction had its advantages. There was no need for sleep, and information wasn’t hard to come by, not when he could strike fear into all but the hardiest of individuals.

But it drove him on. It drove him on and forward, forth into the deep forest. On to East City.     

* * *

Valjean was not in charge of security. That would have been both a massive breach of interest and a duty far too extensive for his station. Or at least that was what Di told him. _He_ thought he was the best person for the job. Instead, he satisfied himself by double-checking everything he could see from his position next to the Colonel herself on the train platform. Snipers on all visible rooftops… _check._ (He was going to write up whomever was positioned on the hospital roof, though – he could see the reflection from his sight _far_ too easily.) Soldiers barricading entries and double-checking all citizen entrances… _check._ (Personally, he would have closed off the entire station, but some people thought that was overkill. Maybe it was.)

The funny thing was, he wasn’t exactly the most uptight of people. Diana had once expressed a vain hope that she could unload all of her paperwork onto him; after a week of unintelligible scrawls and badly-forged signatures, she’d given up and left him to his regular duties of keeping everything _else_ organized. He just had a knack for certain things, he supposed, and it didn’t hurt that he was constantly underestimated.

“Please, Lieutenant, do up _one_ more button,” murmured Solaris. She’d collected herself admirably, standing firmly at attention in her ceremonial outfit with her white gloves pressed and bleached, the red of the stitched arrays standing out against the bright blue of the Amestrian uniform. It was almost impossible to tell that her jaw was clenched tighter than a bear-trap.

“If you insist,” he replied languidly, using one hand to slip another button into place. “Do I look presentable enough for you yet?”

“Please, can you manage not to be a shit for the next…”

“Three weeks?” He laughed quietly. “Not happening. So, question, why a train? I thought that’d been proven an officially Bad Idea after the Hakuro incident.”

“I think the Fuhrer wants to mingle or something. Who knows?” Solaris was relaxing now – that was good. Valjean flicked his eyes around again. All clear.

“And here it comes,” she said resignedly as the train rounded the corner. It pulled into the station with a squeal of brakes, and for an alarming moment, Valjean realized that almost all the snipers’ views were blocked by the billowing plume of smoke. Immediately he grabbed the handle of his gun, squaring his feet – but the smoke blew away in the next gust of wind, the engine began to cool down, and nothing happened.

 _Shoddy, shoddy, shoddy!_ He cursed Mayfeather’s name roundly, but snapped back into formal position (or at least as close to it as he could manage without feeling like a circus monkey) as the train doors opened and the military men began to file out.

He saw Hughes first, and suppressed the urge to wave. Hughes, however, didn’t stand _nearly_ as much on ceremony, walking immediately over and shaking both of their hands. It could have been worse, thought Valjean as he tried not to grin. He could have given them the usual bear-hug.

“Sorry about the late notice, Solaris, Valjean – things happened pretty quickly back at Central. One sec. Phillips, Anders, set up with the Eastern men at the perimeter.”

Valjean couldn’t help but smile a little. Hughes’s mood was infectious, even among all the precautions. “Are you kidding? This is the most exciting thing to happen all year!” At Solaris’s warning glare, he added, “Pity it had to happen under such grim circumstances though.”

“You’re telling _me._ You haven’t even seen the photographs, and I’ve been on my hands and knees –“ Hughes cut himself off and swivelled around in line with them, saluting the Fuhrer as he approached. “Sir!”

The one thing Valjean could _never_ get used to was how young the leader of their country looked. He had to be at least fifty, but he barely looked older than Valjean himself. He even had a young voice, which was possibly the most disarming part of all – it made you start looking around for his _father._ “Colonel Solaris! What a pleasure. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure recently. At ease, at ease, all of you.” Fuhrer Mustang waved his hand at the three of them, much to the apparent displeasure of his aide.

Valjean lowered his salute, trying not to look too, well, _not_ at ease, for lack of a better way of putting it. The Fuhrer didn’t seem to notice, smiling broadly and somewhat stupidly as he offered his hand to Solaris. “I’m very excited to be visiting East City. It’s been a while since I’ve had the opportunity to get out of Central.”

“…I’m sure.” Solaris took his hand, obviously trying not to look too bemused.

The Fuhrer brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, bowing gracefully. “Thank you for your graciousness in hosting us, my lady.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” she… _flirted?_ Was she _flirting?_ Valjean kept his face straight. She was flirting. With Fuhrer Mustang. …Of course she was. “I’ve taken extra care with all security, and there’s a motorcade waiting just outside the station to take us to Eastern Command, whenever you’re ready.”

“Will you ride with me?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye. “I would feel much safer with the renowned Flame Alchemist in my car.”

“Of course, Fuhrer, sir. I’d like to introduce you to my adjutant, Lieutenant Jareth Valjean.” A second too late, Valjean inclined his head, realizing that that was _him._ Right. So far he was scoring a hundred percent on safety analysis and…something low on societal graces.

Mustang turned to look at him, and Valjean was taken aback by the coldness of his gaze. His eyes were dark, with a shine in them like shattered ice at midnight. A moment later, however, the boisterously warm personality was back. “Pleasure. This is 2nd Lieutenant Hawkeye, my personal aide, although she prefers not to be addressed by her rank. Miss Hawkeye, my baggage.”

The blond woman nodded briskly and turned back towards the train, and with a smile, the Fuhrer and Solaris started walking in the other direction.

Hughes didn’t miss a beat. “Ibsen, your team’s on escort duties. Two men per car, minimum. I’ll see you later, Jareth,” he added.

Valjean nodded and followed Solaris, noticing a moment later that Mustang’s aide was close behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and chuckled. “Need some help with all that?” In truth, it wasn’t that much baggage, considering who it belonged to – one suitcase and an overlarge briefcase – but she was a small woman, and it seemed the polite thing to do.

“That won’t be necessary, Lieutenant,” she responded crisply. “We aren’t headed the same direction.” She paused for a moment to adjust her tinted sunglasses. “I will be accompanying Fuhrer Mustang.”

Valjean turned that over, then bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from punching her in her self-righteous face. (Funny how first impressions could lead you _so_ wrong. He was never being polite again.) “And I won’t.”

“Correct. I’ll see you at Command.”

Valjean watched her walk away, then growled, “Bitch,” under his breath. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it as he made his way towards one of the other cars – he deserved it, and nobody was going to tell him any different.

* * *

If Solaris was troubled at Valjean’s absence, she gave no sign of it, folding one leg over the other and leaning her head on her hand, incidentally showing off the stitched red array that had given her her title. “We’re alone now. I assume this is what you wanted.” Her eyes flickered up to the blonde head visible over Mustang’s shoulder, behind the glass partition that separated the passengers from the driver – and kept their conversations private.

Mustang’s face broke into a sly grin, and the buffoonish demeanour dropped like a cloak. “Thank goodness. I thought I was going to rupture something. Do you have any wine in here?” He glanced around the inside of the motorcar hopefully.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Pity. Did you know I had _five_ different security teams all telling me what to do? People think I get to boss them around, when the truth is I don’t know who’s in charge half the time.” He ran a hand through his hair, black strands falling back onto his forehead with practiced grace. Solaris smiled a little, wondering how often he practiced doing that in the mirror.

“Was there a reason you wanted to talk to me specifically, sir?”

“Do I need one?” he asked innocently. “Can’t I just want to spend time with a charming, promising young State Alchemist – who, by the way, could probably eliminate any threat in the time it takes for the window to roll down – and ask her to dinner?”

Solaris took a moment to unravel the sentence. “You could have just said you wanted to ask me to dinner.”

“Yes, but it wouldn’t have been as fun.”

“Permission to decline, sir?”

He narrowed his eyes, then sighed with a disappointed pout. “I suppose you have a lot of work to do. And I have to be the _responsible_ boss and let you do it. How unfair is that?”

“With all due respect, Fuhrer Mustang, sir, you’re not here to flirt with your subordinates,” Solaris replied, lowering her hand from her chin and shifting in her seat. It was too bad, really – he was very handsome. “I was informed that there was a threat to your safety in Central.”

“Not _my_ safety, technically. I’m not an alchemist. But yes, there have been some issues in Central, hence why every Central-based state alchemist has been temporarily relocated. The most high-ranking ones have come with me as part of the Central Command unit, but the only thing I’m personally in danger of is being alone for dinner tonight.”

“Fuhrer. _Sir._ ” Solaris fixed him with the most chilling glare she could muster, and was surprised when it was equally returned. She couldn’t help it – her eyes dropped to the floor of the car, and she kept her face still and calm, fighting the urge to flush. _He’s not an idiot,_ she reprimanded herself, _even if he acts like one. Get a hold of yourself._

“As for you,” he continued on like nothing had happened, “the length of this, ah… _situation…_ depends on you.”

Something dropped into her stomach. “Me?”

“The situation in Central, as you probably know already, is a murderer – a serial killer, who targets State Alchemists.” The corner of Mustang’s mouth crooked upwards. “I doubt that surprises you. The surprising part is how successful he’s been. Five alchemists are dead, none below a Lieutenant-Colonel in rank, and one of them had to be identified through dental records.”

Solaris raised her eyebrows at that. “How were they killed?”

“Good question. It looks like they were mauled and half-eaten by…well, _something._ Some wild beast. But wild beasts don’t target military, let alone high-ranking officers.”

She nodded slowly. “So this is some… sort of intelligent creature?”

“Possibly. Unfortunately our expert on such things died a few years ago. Your protégé had a hand in that, if I remember correctly,” he added nonchalantly. “But there are very few creatures, man or beast, who can survive fire.”

Solaris’s mouth tightened. “You’re _luring_ it here.”

Mustang made a little chiming noise, flicking the air. “Ding! You got it. And you’re my secret weapon.”

“How pleasant. I suppose you couldn’t have informed me of your plan earlier.”

“And have _everyone_ know? Nonsense. Besides, I like to keep people guessing. I enjoy watching people think on their feet. And if you prove to be as good as I think you are…” Mustang straightened his collar as the gates of Eastern Command started to appear in the window, “Then who knows? I might be taking one more alchemist home than I left with.”

He got to his feet, climbing out of the car, but he stopped as Solaris spoke. “Two alchemists. Sir.”

“Two?”

“In any hypothetical transfer situation I would insist on bringing my team with me, and that would include Major William Elric.” She smirked at him, inclining her head. “Hypothetically, of course.”

He returned the smirk, then held the door open for her with a gentlemanly bow. “I suppose that’s fair. Shall we? I believe the security team has something else to tell me off about.”

 _That reminds me,_ she realized, _I never did get verification from Will’s security detail…_ She decided not to worry about it just yet. Even Will couldn’t get in trouble _this_ quickly.


	25. Under Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Queen.
> 
> Trigger warning: humilation/embarrassment, transphobic/transmisogynistic language, anti-sex-worker sentiment, references to sexism, slight body horror and references to depression/mental illness.

~25~

_Chipping around, kick my brains ‘round the floor_

_These are the days – it never rains but it pours_

**_-Under Pressure_ **

 

                There was a cold breeze blowing over the cliffs, and Jareth stamped his feet and blew on his hands, trying not to glare. “Are you just about done?”

                “ _Shush,_ Jareth. Unless you want me to blow you up.”

                “I know something I’d like you to –“

                Diana glanced over her shoulder with a chilling look. Jareth shut up – but not for long. One could only stand on top of a cliff watching someone concentrate for so long before it got dull. “Look, you lit a fire in the grate. That’s something.”

                “I haven’t done anything I couldn’t do better or faster with a matchbook.” Diana pulled off the glove with a groan, biting off a loose piece of thread. “I know this could be neater, but it _should_ be working.”

                “It’s not the array,” muttered Jareth, in possibly a crankier tone than the situation warranted. “It’s the air up here.”

                “What?” She turned to look at him again, but this time in confusion.

                Jareth sighed and rubbed his arms again. “The _air,_ ” he repeated. “Less oxygen. You’re trying to manipulate something that isn’t there.”

                Cold as he was, he had to grin as her face lit up. He loved it when she got The Look – it meant one, that she was being Little Miss Crazy Genius again, two, that they were almost done and three, that he was _absolutely_ getting laid tonight.

                “Ok, one more time.” She slipped the glove back onto her hand and held it out in front of her, still cautious but with more confidence than she’d had before, then picked up another piece of firewood and chucked it out over the edge in an arc. She snapped her fingers –

                -and the air above the canyon detonated with a rush of heat and air and orange light, and suddenly Jareth was on his back and his head was ringing, and Diana was beside him, laughing fit to burst. “It worked! It _worked!_ ”

                “No kidding.” Jareth lifted his head. The cloud of fire was already collapsing in on itself, starving itself to death in the thin air, but that – _that –_ had been a piece of firewood no bigger than his arm. “You really –“

                But suddenly Diana’s lips were on his, and her arms were around him, pulling him close enough to feel her heartbeat. He kissed her back, running a callused thumb over her cheek. “We did it,” she whispered breathlessly. “We did it.”

* * *

  **TEN YEARS LATER**

There were benefits to being a State Alchemist, thought Will with a smug smile as he pulled his watch from his pocket, letting it swing back and forth from its chain. “See? No delinquents here.”

                The soldiers guarding the entrance to Eastern Command still looked uncertain. “Why aren’t you in uniform, then?” asked the shorter of the two. “It’s regulation to –“

                “You’re not from here, are you?” retorted Will, putting his hands on his hips.

                “No,” said the second guard, a burly man with a Corporal’s insignia on his shoulders. “Sir,” he added quickly after Will gave him a withering look.

                “First rule of the East, I do what I want.” He grinned disarmingly. They still didn’t move. The grin faded. “Oh for _fuck’s_ sake, get out of the _way,_ you blue bastards. You’ve got five seconds before I drop you into the ground. Literally.”

                They exchanged looks, then with trepidation still written all over their faces, stepped aside.

                “ _Thank_ you.” He wrenched open the door and stepped inside. Gripped with curiosity, however, he stepped back a little and pressed his ear to the door.

                “…looks like one of those male prostitutes Dan was telling me about…doesn’t explain how he got the watch though…”

                “Well, that’s insulting,” murmured Alex in annoyance.

                Will just shrugged. “It’s not exactly original, is it?” he whispered back. “Now shush.”

                There was a snort. “Maybe whoever it was gave it to him so he could get in.”

                “Then we should have barred the way, right?”

                “Man, don’t stress it. I hear they get up to all sorts of weird shit out here. Besides, East or not, only the higher-ups are going to do that, so best not to interfere.”

                “I don’t get why his hair is green, though. Was he in disguise as a palm-tree? I hear they have those out by the desert –“

                Will clapped his hands, a growl starting in the back of his throat, but Alex yanked on his hair and whispered frantically, “ _No!_ You’re lucky they let you in at _all!_ ”

                With a huff, Will turned away from the door and headed into Eastern Command, but he couldn’t help but whine, “Why does _everyone_ call me that?”

                “Because you have questionable fashion sense and too much hair. Now sort out your priorities and please, _please_ behave this time,” pleaded Alex, although there was more than a hint of resignation in his voice.

                “I don’t know the meaning of the word.”

                “Clearly.”

                “Ha-ha.” Will came to a stop in front of the Colonel’s door. It was funny, how his feet knew the way on their own now. These days, though, his face was almost level with the brass numbers on the door, instead of staring up at them with mixed fear and indignation. Then, shaking off the nostalgia, he grabbed the doorknob and barged in. “Hey Colonel! I need to talk to –“

                He stopped. Dead. “-You?” he finished in a small voice. Several heads turned to look at him, none of them particularly friendly.

                The Colonel herself was seated at her desk, glaring at him and probably ready to turn him into charbroiled Elric. “As you can see, _Fullmetal,_ ” she enunciated, slowly and threateningly, “I’m a little busy.”

                Will nodded equally slowly, paralyzed. The man on the leather couch ( _that is MY couch,_ thought Will irritably) grinned. “Well, well. If it isn’t the little prodigy.”

                “Fuhrer. Sir.” Will fumbled, then saluted, before belatedly switching to the other hand. “I –I –I’m sorry –“

                “Do you usually do that?” the Fuhrer continued, eyes gleaming in amusement. “It’s a wonder Solaris gets any work done with you interrupting her.”

                “I – I don’t – I just –“ he stuttered, before giving up completely, trying and failing to hide the utter embarrassment on his face. He finally managed to gather his senses, looking around the room and trying not to feel quite so overwhelmingly helpless. “Aren’t – aren’t you – is _all_ of Central Command here?”

                “Just about,” piped up a familiar voice. Will sighed in relief and looked over at Hughes, who was leaning on the wall by the window, next to Valjean, who looked just about as irritated as Solaris. Well, he hadn’t seen Hughes in a while. Small joys.

                “I’ll just – I’ll –“ He pointed behind him ineffectually, but then something occurred to him. “You – why didn’t you _tell me?_ What kind of sick sense of humour do you _have?_ ”

                Solaris narrowed her eyes. “This coming from you? I’ve told you before, at least do me the honour of _knocking._ ”

                “I would have, if somebody had told me that the _president of the entire country_ was here! Now! Today! A-and you _grounded_ me and everything, so you _knew_ I’d be here –“ Will stamped his foot, clenching his fists by his sides. “I hate you. I hate you _so_ much.”

                “I’m not particularly fond of you right now either, Fullmetal, so if you’d please remove yourself from my presence –“

                Mustang held up his hand. “No, no, it’s quite good that he’s here. After all, I was just about to talk about the State Alchemist assessments for this year.”

                “You were?” asked Will bemusedly.

                “Of course! Since so many of the people responsible for them are _here,_ they’ll be performed here rather than Central. As I recall, Fullmetal, you managed to dodge out of yours last year with a broken rib –“

                “- _three_ broken ribs –“ he corrected under his breath.

                “-so this year’s is especially important for you. What’s your progress?”

                Will puffed out his cheeks, thinking hard. He _had_ found some interesting new concepts on his travels, even accounting for the fact that he wasn’t about to reveal anything about the Philosopher’s Stone. He’d feel a little bad about spilling the beans on the Tringhams, but since they’d been posing as military folks to begin with, they could deal with someone showing up and asking about their plant alchemy. Then there was Lyra, the wind alchemist from Youswell – Will doubted Yoki had mentioned her particular line of research in any of his reports. Or –

                “Don’t do anything stupid!” hissed Alex.

                “Fuhrer? Sir?”

                Mustang inclined his head. “Yes?”

                “Isn’t it possible to assess someone while they’re fighting? You know, trial by combat?”

                “Combat?” echoed Mustang, a grin spreading over his face. “You’ll have to clarify.”

                “What do you want me to say? Assess me while I’m fighting with alchemy. It’s better than poring over another dumb report. Besides –“ Will smiled disarmingly at Solaris, who was starting to look quite perturbed, “- I’m not the _only_ one with an assessment due.”

                The accused pursed her lips. “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”

                Will crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows. “Oh? Are you _scared?_ ”

                Much to his surprise, there was a smatter of laughter from around the room. Alex, however, didn’t seem to share his amusement. “Will, don’t _taunt_ her, we’ve been _over_ this –“

                Solaris smirked back. “Not in the least. But don’t you think I have better things to do than soothe your wounded pride? You seem absolutely dumbfounded that my world doesn’t revolve around you, after all.”

                “I’m one of your higher-ranking subordinates. I’m the _only_ State Alchemist currently under your direct command. I’ve just returned from defusing a high-tension situation that could have had severe repercussions for the military _._ ” He ticked them off, raising his slender fingers one by one. “And you didn’t think a visit from the Fuhrer and…” he checked the room, “…at least seven generals was worth informing me about.”

                “I didn’t know you could talk like that,” whispered Alex with awe. Will tried not to preen.

                Solaris rose from her seat, eyes flashing. Will unconsciously took a step back. “Whether or not I thought it was worth informing you isn’t important. Don’t question me.”

                “Excuse me?”

                “I’m _not_ going to participate in this idiocy. And before you ask again, I refuse to lower myself to some schoolyard tussle just so you can get out of writing down your research. You’re dismissed.”

                Will tightened his jaw, feeling his eyes sting a little. It wasn’t that he ever forgot that Solaris was his commanding officer – but it was awfully easy to get comfortable with the idea of her as a protector and conveniently forget that she had her own agenda. He opened his mouth, ready to say “Yes, ma’am” and make his exit before he was humiliated any more than he was already, when Mustang beat him to the punch.

                “Actually, I think it’s an excellent idea!”

                “…Eh?” said Will at the same time that Solaris turned her head incredulously and asked, “Sorry?”

                Mustang smiled broadly as if he hadn’t noticed a single acidic word that had passed between the two of them. “Nothing like a good clean fight to get the blood going! And it’ll be good entertainment for the troops, too. I’ll get a team to set up the parade ground for tomorrow morning.”

                “Sir, I have to protest –“ Diana started, but Mustang held up a hand.

                “No buts! It’s all settled, and it means less work for you.”

                “Fuhrer, _sir,_ I’m a _flame alchemist._ ”

                “I’m aware. We’ll keep hoses on hand.” Mustang managed to smile even more broadly. “Consider it part of the exercise not to singe anybody but Fullmetal too badly. And Fullmetal, try not to destroy anything too expensive.”

                “But I –“ Will, once again, was at a loss for words. He suddenly wasn’t sure his suggestion had been a very good idea after all. But a glance up at Solaris was enough to tell him that, _yes,_ he still really, _really_ wanted to punch her in the face. “I promise.”

                “Good! Alright, everyone’s dismissed. This room’s too crowded, and I’m hungry.” Mustang got to his feet, dusted off his pristine uniform and gave Solaris a little bow before heading for the door. He ruffled Will’s hair as he passed by, much to the teenager’s horror – not that Mustang seemed to notice – and then he was gone, followed by a seemingly never-ending stream of blue.

                Will scowled after them, fixing his hair and squirming a little as Alex crawled back into position. “Well, that could have gone better,” he muttered, looking uneasily back at Solaris. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, and instead strode past him, slamming the door behind her.

                “Damn,” came another voice. “I didn’t know Diana actually slammed doors.”

                Will cringed. He _still_ wasn’t alone. “…Hi Hughes.” A second later, he was enveloped in a warm, strong hug from behind that lifted him off his feet.

                “It’s good to see you! You’ve gotten taller, too – not as much as Elysia’s grown, obviously –“ Hughes put him down and grinned, poking him gently in the ribcage. “You’re still too skinny. You should come visit – Gracia’ll help you with that.”

                Will chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, well, we didn’t exactly part on good terms…”

                “Everybody makes mistakes sometimes, and it doesn’t make her apple pie any less delicious. Completely up to you, of course. And how’s the squirt?”

                “Don’t call me that!” squeaked Alex indignantly.

                “Aw, sorry. I like your new look, it’s very cool.”

                Alex laughed at that, moving further onto Will’s shoulder from behind his curtain of hair to show off his arrays. “It’s all functional too. Look, this is a carbon array, this one’s silicon, and this one’s water.”

                “ _Very_ nice. You know how I am about alchemy, though. I don’t know how you do –“

                “I messed up, didn’t I?” Will rubbed his arm, not meeting Hughes’s eyes.

                Hughes was quiet for a moment, then he sat down on the couch, face softening. “It’s not your fault.”

                “Really? Because the Colonel looks about ready to rip my throat out. She didn’t even look like that after I blew up that bank in Greeneaves.”

                “You blew up a _bank?_ ” Hughes shook his head.

                “It was an accident! Besides, there were bandits in it – and no civilians, before you ask – so overall, it was a win.” Will glanced at the door again. “Aren’t they going to be expecting you?”

                “Nah. Do you have any idea how many people are here?”

                “Not the slightest. We missed that bit, remember?”

                “What happened?” asked Alex. “I mean, I think I would remember if this was a regular thing.”

                “You’d think _I’d_ remember!”

                “No, you wouldn’t.” Alex patted the side of Will’s face and ignored him, paying attention to Hughes, who sighed and adjusted his glasses.

                “It’s not pretty. There’s a State Alchemist serial killer in Central, and nobody wants to be next. So when the Fuhrer decided to come here for his own safety, about half of Central Command decided they needed to come with him for added security. _His,_ of course.”

                “A State Alchemist…serial killer?” echoed Will. He slumped down on the couch. “I thought you were trying to make me want to beat her up _less,_ ” he grouched, somewhat unconvincingly.

                “I never said that,” said Hughes, before quickly moving on before either of them could comment. “Besides, I’m fairly certain that all alchemists in the area had security sent after them, so it’s not like you were left _completely_ in the dark.”

                Will blanched.

                “Is there a problem?”

                Alex replied in a voice dripping with sarcasm, “Not unless you count the fact that my brother is a _paranoid asshole._ ”

                “I am not paranoid! I just don’t like being followed! And they were really, _really_ terrible at it!” Will threw up his hands. “I give up. I blame the Fuhrer.”

                “Don’t say that. He’s the Fuhrer, remember? You are, however, allowed to blame his security team.  Our whole contingent announced our arrival less than twenty-four hours ago. So, essentially, as the train was leaving.”

                Will groaned again, leaning his head against the back of the couch. “Great. And now I’m in a grudge match against my own boss.”

                “Cheer up! It’ll be fun!”

                “Says you. I _hate_ fighting.” At Hughes’s slightly confounded look, Will scoffed and clarified. “I do it enough as it is, I don’t _look_ for it.” Hughes continued to look at him bemusedly. “I don’t want to fight _her!_ ”

                Hughes patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ll do fine. I’m sure the hospital allows visits after the first week.”

                “Ha-ha. You’re so comforting.”

* * *

                Amestris’s military had accepted female applicants into its general population for fifty years, into its officers’ ranks for thirty and into the ranks of the State Alchemists (technically and begrudgingly) for almost seven. It seemed like a long time to most people. Fifty years – that was more than a generation, and waves and waves of new recruits had joined up since then, all with the same crude jokes and backhanded compliments readied on their tongues.

                Truth be told, Diana didn’t think fifty years was very long at all.

                “Hey.”

                Diana ignored the voice behind her, driving her fist into the punching bag in sets of four. One, two, three, four. Stop. Switch. One, two, three, four.

                “Diana,” Jareth said again, quietly.

                “Don’t call me that,” she replied breathlessly. With a sigh, she steadied the punching bag, dragged the back of her wrapped hand over her forehead, and turned to look at him. “What do you want?”

                Jareth raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms.

                “I’m fine. I’m _angry,_ I’m _furious,_ but I’m fine.”

                “Are you really going to fight Will?”

                “Of course. Can’t disobey a direct demand from the Fuhrer.” Even as it came out, though, she could hear the sarcasm she hadn’t tried hard enough to hide. “One of us ends up dead, it’s – it’s that much less trouble. One sec.” She walked over the bench and sat down, picking up her towel and wiped her face.

                Jareth chuckled. “How long have you been in here?”

                “Ever since I walked out of that shitshow.”

                “You’re not blaming Will, are you?”

                Diana gave him a sour look.

                “It was a misunderstanding, D – _Colonel,_ ” he corrected himself. “He avoids barracks, he barely uses his desk –“

                “He had a _security detail._ That should have been a big clue!”

                “They weren’t with him when he showed up, so they probably hadn’t connected yet. It was just a mistake.”

                She grumbled incoherently for a few moments. “You’re being reasonable. Stop. I want to punch things more.”

                “Isn’t that my job?”

                “Unless you’d like to fight Will for me, then that’s not going to work out.” Diana smoothed down a stray hair that had escaped from her messy plait. It was hard, figuring out what to do with hair like hers when working out – she’d tried sparring with it loose once. _Once._

                “You could always talk to the Fuhrer. Explain that you’re not comfortable in an alchemy fight –“

                “And then what?” she snapped. “A _man_ could back out, Jareth. People would applaud him for it. But I have to be twice as good to be considered half the soldier!” She rubbed the heel of her hand against her temple. “Hopefully Will’s smart enough to know how to defend himself. I don’t want him dead just because some sadistic asshole thinks it’s funny to put us in a death match.”

                Jareth nodded, but winced a little. “Don’t say that. People are listening.”

                “ _Fine._ Our great and noble leader is putting us in a death match.” Diana got to her feet again, tightening the bandages around her hands. “Now leave me alone.”

                “…Alright. Just don’t be mad at Will. Especially not tomorrow.”

                “I _won’t_ be,” she muttered darkly, throwing another half-hearted punch at the bag.

* * *

                Will wasn’t sleeping. Alex could always tell, even when – _especially_ when – Will’s back was stubbornly turned.

                “It’ll be okay. The Colonel knows you were just shooting your mouth off. She won’t make you do it.”

                He didn’t respond, but his one visible shoulderblade tightened, jutting out in sharp relief. Alex couldn’t help but wince in sympathy as it pulled slightly on the red, scarred flesh around the automail port. It had healed long ago, he knew that, but he still remembered the pain written on Will’s face during that first year.  

                “Even if you do fight,” Alex said after a moment, searching for the right words, “she won’t hurt you. Not on purpose. She _wouldn’t._ She _won’t._ ”

                Will turned over in the bed, looking up at where Alex was sitting on the nightstand. He smiled sleepily and unconvincingly through the strands of green hair that had sprawled over his face, long fingers digging almost imperceptibly into the mattress. “I’m not worried about that. I can take her.”

                “I believe you.” Alex inclined his head. “So what’s going on?”

                “Just…thinking.”

                “Thinking?”

                Will sighed, eyes unfocused and drifting. He hadn’t slept well for a few nights now. “They, uh… I don’t…” He swallowed, closed his eyes and tried again. “They thought I was a freak, didn’t they?”

                “Brother –“

                “I know, I know, I’m not s’posed to let it bother me. I just… sometimes I think Gracia was right.”

                Not for the first time, Alex wished he was at least tall enough to give his brother a hug. “Gracia doesn’t _know_ us. Not really. Not properly.”

                “Yeah, but…”

                “But _nothing._ And don’t worry about all the people at Command, either. Tomorrow they’re going to see you kick ass.”

                Will actually laughed at that, but his eyes were still hollow. It hadn’t been bad in a while, and Alex prayed to whatever god was out there that it wouldn’t get worse than this.

                “Will?”

                “Yeah?” He was half asleep now, Alex noticed – he might not even remember any of this in the morning.

                “Promise me you’ll go see Dr. Holland. After this whole thing with the Colonel is done.”

                “Yeah, sure –“

                _“Promise._ ”

                Will glanced back up at him through his eyelashes. “I promise,” he mumbled sleepily.

                “Good. Now get some sleep.”

                It didn’t take long before Will was breathing slowly and evenly. Alex sat back against the lamp, and prepared himself for yet another long, lonely night.


	26. Givin Em What They Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Janelle Monae.
> 
> Trigger warning: PTSD, smoking, hallucinations/psychosis, violence, gambling, transphobia/transmisogyny, anti-sex-worker sentiment, fire/burning, sexism.

~26~

_I am sharper than a switchblade_

_First and last of what God made_

_And that’s the truth_

**_-Giving Them What They Love_ **

 

           It was an achingly bright day, the kind of day that had even the hardiest soldier reaching for a pair of sunglasses or a large-brimmed hat. Despite the heat, though, the parade grounds were packed with blue bodies, all gathered around the arena that had been marked out earlier that morning. Word had traveled astonishingly fast about the alchemy duel.

           Will snorted and ducked back behind the building, flicking his lighter irritatedly. Alex was with Jareth already, which meant he could _finally_ have a smoke – technically he could even with Alex on his shoulder, but there was only so much lecturing he could handle. “Go see your therapist! Stop pissing off your commanding officer! Oil your automail!” he muttered sarcastically, finally managing to light his cigarette. It was uncharitable, he knew that, but it was hard enough on the best of days to be kind and understanding, and the few hours of sleep he’d gotten last night hadn’t gone all that far in making up for the week or so of restless nights.

           “Last time I checked, you’re still underage.”

            Will exhaled a puff of smoke and glared up at Diana, who had appeared as if out of nowhere. “Funny thing about someone being away from everybody, that usually means they want to be _away from everybody._ ” He looked her up and down and leant back, scowling. “And no one told me I had to dress up.”

           “If you think I’m fighting you in that death-trap of a uniform, you’re _very_ mistaken,” said Diana with a hint of a smile, tugging on her gloves. Will hadn’t realized she had two pairs – these were black, with the arrays stitched on them in barely-visible grey thread. _Everything_ was black, actually, and formfitting, without any of the flaps and labels of the official uniform.

           “Hmph,” was all he said. He didn’t want to admit that he hadn’t really thought about it. He fought well enough in his usual clothes, so it didn’t matter.

           “Will –“

           “I’m busy.”

           “Busy burning a hole in your lungs?”

           “Right, _yeah,_ that’s _your_ job.”

            Diana pursed her lips and gave him a withering stare. He refused to meet her eyes. “May the best alchemist win,” she said finally, in a tone that was disarmingly sweet.

            “Sure,” he muttered. She swept past him. Trisha stood behind the space where Diana had been, hands folded and giving him a disapproving look.

            “Stop that.” He puffed on his cigarette, trying not to look at her. “I’ll apologize later. Maybe.” A moment later, he stubbed it out on the brick wall and let it fall to the ground. He couldn’t put it off any longer.

\---

           “500 cens on Fullmetal.”

           “I’ll take that bet,” said Havoc, grinning at Breda. “The kid’s strong, but no _way_ is he stronger than the Colonel.”

           “He’s got the automail, though,” Fuery mused mostly to himself.

           Breda readied his pen. “Am I putting you down for 500 then?”

           “No, no! I don’t place _bets_!”

           “It’s 500 cens, Fuery. That’s pocket money.”

           “Yeah, but what if the Colonel finds out I bet against her?” Fuery shuddered at the thought.

            Havoc laughed. “The automail isn’t gonna matter, anyway. Have you _seen_ the Colonel’s alchemy?”

            Fuery shook his head. “I’m new, remember?”

            “Three years stops counting as new. But that’s right, she’s barely used it here. Well, take my word for it.” Havoc glanced over at Valjean. “Any bets from you today?”

            “Nope.”

            “Really? Not gonna bet on the Colonel?”

            “Nope.” Valjean leant on the wooden fence that had been so haphazardly built around the arena, chewing on his lip. “I don’t gamble.”

            “You don’t – Oh come _on._ I don’t believe you.”

            “You calling me a liar, Havoc?” Valjean lowered his sunglasses and gave Havoc a look. “You wanna go? C’mon, let’s get in that arena and give everybody a pre-show.”

             Havoc eyed Valjean’s exposed arms, usually covered by the military uniform. “…I’ll pass.”

             Alex snickered, watching from his vantage point on the older Lieutenant’s shoulder. He’d gotten used to watching conversations happen without him, and to be honest, he didn’t mind so much. People behaved differently when they forgot you were there. No one tried to tell you that you were wearing the wrong thing, or behaving the wrong way, or give you _another_ lecture on “how your brother may be able to get away with these things, but you certainly cannot,” etc. He hadn’t been on the receiving end of many of those since he’d ended up in this body, though. He supposed once you were this far on the side of ‘weird’, people stopped bothering, and the few who knew who he existed lived in about the same zone.

             “I should bet on Will,” he mused out loud. “Can you place a bet for me?”

              Jareth turned his head slightly. “Really? How much?”

              “…1000 cens. And you can have half if he wins.”

              “Damn. Sure, sure.” Jareth straightened his collar, and Alex tucked himself further behind it, trying to get a good view of the arena without being seen himself. It was the downside of riding with someone with short hair – he had to come up with other ways of staying hidden.

              “Hey, Havoc, I changed my mind. Here’s 1000 cens on Fullmetal.”

              “…Wha?”

              “It’s for somebody else. Shut up and take the bet.” Valjean reached back and poked Alex. “You owe me.”

              “Make Will pay you. I don’t have pockets.”

               “Then you shouldn’t be gambling,” grouched Valjean, but Alex could tell he was joking. He settled down in the crook of his neck and watched the arena, trying to relax.

               “…Valjean?”

               “Yeah?” he murmured quietly. “What’s on your mind?”

                Alex thought for a moment. He couldn’t quite put it into words, but the more he tried to turn it around in his head, the more confused he got. “I don’t think I like the Fuhrer very much.”

                “Why not?” Valjean’s tone was measured and low, but Alex could feel the muscles in his neck tighten even more than they already had.

                “This isn’t right. And I’m not even sure why, but it’s _not._ ”

                “No, it’s not,” he replied. “But there’s nothing I can do to stop it, so there’s no point in worrying.”

                Alex didn’t find that particularly comforting.

* * *

                The Fullmetal Alchemist strode into the ring with a cocky smirk, a cheerful wave and a definite sway to his hips. He was in fine form, he was in control, he was –

                _-man he might be a queer but he’s damn fun to watch –_

_-he might be prettier than the Colonel but don’t tell my wife that-_

_-is it legal to dress like that-_

-getting more pissed off by the minute. It wasn’t anything new, though. Just more of the same unoriginal comments and bad jokes. He stopped in the middle of the arena and crossed his arms, glaring at Diana, who was inspecting the backs of her gloves with a careless expression.

                “Took you long enough,” she said lightly.

                “I like to make an entrance. Keep you on your toes.”

                “You’re going to have to try a _lot_ harder.” Solaris straightened up, and it hit Will for the first time in a long while just how _tall_ she was. It was easy to forget when she was next to Valjean and Havoc, but standing in the middle of an empty, flat expanse, she towered above him, a battle Amazon in black combat gear. It was like looking at a stranger.

                She flipped her braid off of her shoulder, heavy curls tied away and her face sharp and angular without their usual frame. “Fuhrer, sir, if you’d be so kind as to count us off?”

                “What?”

                “With pleasure. Fight fair!” Mustang ( _of course,_ seethed Will to himself) was seated front and centre. “Three…two…one… _fight!_ ”

                The cracked ground between them erupted into flame. Will sprang backwards, trying to curse and not quite able to find enough air to do so – _what the hell WHAT THE HELL –_ and landed awkwardly, wincing as his ankle turned a little bit too far. “…What the –“ he managed to get out before Solaris appeared through the flame.

                “You’re _slow,_ ” she complained, hooking a foot around his ankle and jerking it out from under him. He fell forward, then slammed the ground with his hands, rolling over and back onto his feet.

                “Sorry to disappoint you,” he forced out through gritted teeth. He clapped his hands together and slammed them to the ground, sending a shockwave through the earth. Solaris dropped into a crouch, planting a hand on the ground to keep her balance, but by the time she raised her head, Will was in front of her. “Hi.”

                “Oh, _screw you,_ ” she snarled. She smashed her head against Will’s, staggering to her feet as he collapsed backwards, clutching his forehead. Before he had time to recover, she had snapped her fingers again, and a ring of fire blazed up around them, waves of heat crashing into the two dueling alchemists.

                “You’ve got terrible aim,” snarked Will as he got to his feet. Through the crackling flames, he could still hear the excited yells and cheers of the crowd, mixed in with the same insults as before.

                _“-damn, I wonder if she’s as good in bed as she is with alchemy-“_

_“-wish she’d actually show some skin, I only came to see her –“_

_“-I heard she was sleeping with him-“_

They weren’t talking about him this time.

                “What’s the matter, Fullmetal? Chickening out already?” There was a mocking quality to Solaris’s voice this time, something sharper than her usual teasing.

                Will clapped his hands again, and pulled his long fingers over his automail, stretching the metal out into a long blade. “You wish.” He braced himself, then broke into a run towards her. She put up her hands, ready to block him – and he dodged to the left, getting just a glimpse of her surprised face. He threw himself to the ground, digging his automail blade into the ground and swinging his legs around to slam into her side.

                “Oof!” Solaris spun as she landed, eyes squeezing shut as she threw out her hand and _snapped._

                Will’s world turned bright. He staggered backwards, shielding his eyes with his automail arm, feeling the heat lick at him _make it stop make it stop MAKE IT STOP –_

                The flames disappeared as fast as they had come, although Will could still feel the heat seeping into his bones and crawling across his skin. He lowered his arm, trying to pretend like he wasn’t shaking. The crowd had gone very quiet, all of a sudden. There were a few soft murmurs, but he couldn’t hear them clearly through the pounding in his ears.

                The Colonel was getting to her feet again, and all Will could focus on were the arrays on her hands, grey thread on black cloth, still glowing faintly. _No arrays, no alchemy._

He stumbled to his feet, noticing in the corner of his mind that she hadn’t moved, that her eyes were wide and blank and unfocused – he lashed out, grabbed at the gloves and hoped they were thin enough to tear –

                A knee slammed into his stomach, and the ground came up to meet him. He flipped onto his back, the world spinning, and met a pair of blazing brown eyes. “Colonel-“ he managed to get out before her hands latched around his throat.

                “Diana – stop it –“ he wheezed, clawing at her wrists. He couldn’t move, not with her pinning him down. “ _Please –_ “

                Her eyes. Her eyes were wrong.

                “She’s not seeing you, Will,” came Trisha’s voice very quietly, cutting through the rush of blood in his ears.

                _I can’t breathe,_ he tried to cry out. _Somebody stop this, I can’t breathe._ Instead, he struggled and managed to get his hands together, then smashed one hand into the ground next to him. Walls shot up around them, cutting off the view of the crowd. Then, gasping for one last lungful of oxygen, he slammed his automail fist into the side of Solaris’s face. It wasn’t much, but it loosened her grip, and he shoved her off the rest of the way and rolled onto all fours, choking and heaving.

                He turned his head and glared up at Solaris, who now had the same frozen, glazed look she’d had before. “Diana. Diana!”

                “….Will,” she said finally, chest heaving. “Oh, _jesus, Will,_ ”

                “Get up.”

                “Wh-what?” She still wasn’t fully with it, Will realized. _Well, too fucking bad._

                “I _said,_ get _up._ ” He rubbed at his throat, and sat back on the ground, wiping sweat from his forehead.

                She did, her eyes raking over him as she did so. “…Did I do that?”

                “No, I beat _myself_ up,” he growled. He clapped his hands, and the walls descended slowly into the earth. Then, with Diana standing over him, he raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender. “But guess what. You won.”

* * *

                The world existed, but behind a pane of bottle-glass, warped and far away. There was the sound of applause, and after a moment, she realized – they were applauding for _her._

                “Congratulations to Colonel Solaris, the winner of our little bout! Although I must say, you’ve both proved yourself quite well. You both pass! I –“

                “You _bastard,_ ” hissed Will, already marching determinedly towards where Mustang was standing.  “You sadistic, capricious –“

                But suddenly Jareth was there, holding Will back, grabbing his wrist and trying to soothe his anger. “Fuhrer, sir, permission to escort Fullmetal to the hospital?”

                “He seems hale and hearty to me,” replied Mustang with a twist of his lips.

                “A check-up would probably be a good idea. Don’t you think?” Jareth turned to look at her. Diana hesitated.

                “Y-yes. Always good to double-check. Besides, I – I think they have a room reserved for him now.” It was a good imitation of her usual self, but it didn’t quite pass muster with Jareth, who gave her a worried look.

                She ignored him and headed for the doors into headquarters, trying to ignore the beating sun and the dull throb in her bones. The crowd and its background noise were starting to disperse.

                “Colonel, how ya doing?” Havoc. Sounding ever so concerned. Diana couldn’t manage a response, not with the pounding in her head and the pressure building inside her chest – instead, she just pushed him away, mumbling something that she hoped sounded like a coherent response.

                Somehow, she made it to her office – she wasn’t sure she actually remembered getting there. She closed the door behind her, looked down at her hands with a sense of horror, tore off her gloves and threw them to the side – then, she collapsed on the sofa and tried to remember how to breathe.


	27. If My Heart Was A House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: A lot of people apparently were expecting two different characters in this when they read it! Keep in mind that Will is still in East City and the two characters you’re PROBABLY expecting are actually stationed in Central. It would be cheating to have them show up now!
> 
> Lyrics by Owl City.
> 
> Trigger warning: misgendering, hospitals/injury reference, trauma/mental illness, food, alcohol reference, mild ableism, body horror, torture reference.

 

~27~

_Risk it all, cause I’ll catch you if you fall_

_Wherever you go_

_If my heart was a house, you’d be home_

****

**_-If My Heart Was A House_ **

 

                Will was making stew again. In the Elric house, this had become a common occurrence, but Alex still pulled a face, feeling her stomach grumble and dreading the coming evening. Will only made stew when Mom was too tired, but that was more and more often these days, and Klaus’s house had smelt so _good…_

                “Oh, there you are,” snapped Will from on top of his chair, still resolutely stirring the pot. “I _told_ you, you had to be home before four.”

                “It’s four now.”

                “Oh.” Will glanced at the clock. “Whatever.”

                “Is it ready?” asked Alex, somewhat nervously. “I’m hungry.”

                “Well, that’s too bad then, because it has to cook more.”

                “But I didn’t have any lunch.”

                “You still have to wait, Lexie –“

                “ _Don’t call me that!_ ” she cried out suddenly, stamping her foot to punctuate it.

                “Whatever! Point is, you hafta wait, because if it’s not cooked, you’ll get sick, and I’ll have to call the doctor, and the doctor’s not _allowed_ to come. Mom says so.”

                “Why?”

                “It doesn’t matter why,” Will pronounced with all the confidence of a five-year-old who can at least pretend to be more adult than his younger sibling. “He’s just not allowed.”

                Alex chewed on her lip. She wanted to ask a million more questions. _Why is Mom so tired all the time? Why do you have to cook? Why can’t I stay at Klaus’s for dinner sometimes?_ But when she asked questions, Will got mad, and sometimes Will got mad enough to throw something. He never hit her but it was enough to scare her into being quiet.

                Eventually, Will slid a bowl of the watery-looking stew in front of her, looking a little sheepish. “I’m gonna take this up to Mom.” Then he disappeared up the stairs.

                Alex glanced over her shoulder, then sighed and clambered up onto the chair, leaning over the burners. Will had left the stove on again.

* * *

 

**TEN YEARS LATER**

“I _told_ you, I’m _fine,_ it doesn’t even – OW!”

                “What were you saying?”

                Will didn’t even dignify that one with an answer, sitting back with a sulk and only wincing occasionally as the two nurses treated his burns. “It only hurts a _little_ bit,” he stated again.

                “I believe you,” replied Nurse Alston, a tiny smile dancing around her lips. “They’re mostly first-degree burns, although in a couple areas they’re second-degree. But they will hurt for a _long_ time, so don’t scratch at them. Change the bandages regularly and use this ointment.”

                “Or I could –“

                “Actually listen to me for once? William Elric, you have been in this hospital for any _number_ of things, but you’ve never been in here for burns before. I am going to have _words_ with that Colonel of yours, but in exchange you are going to turn over a new leaf and actually take care of yourself.”

                Will rolled his eyes. “Right. Yes ma’am.”

                Alex snorted, then ducked behind Valjean’s collar, hoping nobody had heard him. He had a quiet voice, but the hospital room was small as it was. They’d only let Valjean in because Will had insisted that he not be subjected to their ‘tender mercies’ alone. He could have told Valjean not to bother – Will didn’t quite have a room reserved for him, but most of the staff knew him on sight. He was sort of hard to forget as it was, and Alex imagined you never forgot the face of someone you’d had to treat for squirrel bites the size of dinner plates. _That_ had been a fun mission report.

                “That’s it, then - you’re all bandaged up.”

                “Alright, cool! So long, see you soon –“

                “I don’t _think_ so.” Alston grasped Will’s automail shoulder and pushed him gently but firmly back down on the bed. “You’re also displaying symptoms of exhaustion and heatstroke.”

                “You’re _joking._ ”

                “Hardly. You’re not to move from this bed until your CO herself gives the all-clear. Is that clear, William?”

                “Aren’t you _supposed_ to call me Major or something?” he mumbled in an aggrieved tone. Alex knew it all too well.

                “Is that _clear?_ ” she repeated with a vicious gleam in her eyes.

                Alex could have kissed her.

* * *

 

                Diana didn’t want to stay inside her office.

                But she didn’t want to open the door, or walk through the hallways, or subject herself to what would no doubt be a _lot_ of curious stares.

                But she wanted to leave her office.

                But she didn’t want to – well, and so on and so forth, ad nauseam. And ad nauseam was right; her stomach was still churning.

                _Flame Alchemist, the picture of poise,_ she thought sarcastically. At least she’d moved on to self-deprecation, she added with a wry smile as she leaned forward and placed her head _back_ on her desk where it had been sitting for the last half-hour or so. _War hero, nervous fucking wreck._

                Still, she couldn’t quite shake the images in her mind. Will was there – choking, fearful, glaring up at her with a bitter kind of betrayal – but so were a hundred others, all with similar expressions. Some had been younger than Will was now.

                There was a knock at the door. She jerked upright, trying to look a little less like she’d just been through a meat-grinder. “Come in,” she said as lightly as possible.

                The door opened and Havoc stepped in, running a hand through his tousled blond hair. Diana softened a little. Havoc, she could handle. “Ma’am.” He nodded his head.

                “Oh god, how do you manage to make me feel so old?” she mumbled, then spoke up. “What’s going on?”

                “I just, um…” He stepped further into the office and closed the door behind him. “I wanted to see if you were alright.”

                Diana tried to ignore how her chest tightened at that. “…I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

                Havoc hopped from one foot to the other, and she hid her smile behind her hand. He was obviously nervous enough without her laughing at him. “I… also wanted to apologize.”

                “For what?” _Now_ she was confused.

                He pulled out a small sachet from his pocket, looking more sheepish than Diana had ever seen him. (Which was impressive in itself.) “We were…um… We didn’t mean any _harm_ by it, really, and even the Lieutenant got in on it, and….”

                “You were betting on us?”

                Havoc stared very resolutely at his feet, and then grinned a little. “In my defense, I bet on you.”

                “I’d be disappointed if you _didn’t,_ ” she responded dryly. “So why are you telling me this?”

                “Well, I figured if I told you before Valjean did, I’d get in less trouble.”

                “You know, when they tell you honesty is the best policy, they didn’t mean _all_ the time.”

                Havoc had the decency to flush a little at that. “ _And_ it didn’t seem right to keep the money. So those of us that bet on you figured we should give it to you.”

                She blinked, tried to think of how to respond and came up empty. Havoc took advantage of the silence to walk forward and place the sachet on her desk. She reached forward to grab his arm and stop him – and realized with a shiver that she was still wearing her gloves. Drawing her hands back, she shook her head. “I don’t need it. Go ahead and keep it. You can spend it on your girlfriend.”

                “You sure?”

                “Havoc, I’m not taking your money. Just – just don’t do it again.”

                He gave her a questioning look, then shrugged. “Well, if you’re certain. How’s the boss?”

                She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that, even as she was discreetly pulling off her gloves and shoving them into her desk drawer. Havoc probably couldn’t see her hands from there, which was good. “At the hospital, which is all I know right now. But he’s probably fine. I’ve seen what kind of scrapes that boy’s managed to pull himself out of alive. This doesn’t qualify as more than a minor dust-up.”

                Havoc grinned at that, obviously relieved. “That’s good. I’d hate to see him in trouble.”

                “Oh, don’t worry,” she said darkly. “He’s still in trouble.”

                “…I thought as much.” Havoc seemed on the verge of saying something else, but then just gave another cocky grin and saluted. “Permission to –“

                “Yeah, yeah, get out of here.” She waggled her head at the door, still tugging on an unmarked pair of gloves under the desk. It probably didn’t make all that much difference either way, but it made her more comfortable. Then, with another exhausted sigh, she crossed her arms on the desk and laid her head down again – this time, however, with a little less consternation and a little more comfort.

* * *

                “Mhm. I’ll do that. Goodbye.” Valjean hung up the phone and sat down on one of the hospital lobby chairs with a groan that told Alex they would probably be there for a good while longer.

                “What’d the Colonel say?”

                “She’s sending over the escort team who was _supposed_ to be protecting you and your brother yesterday.”

                Alex found himself a little skeptical at the thought. “The ones Will dodged?”

                “It’s a safety in numbers thing,” responded Valjean, although he looked a little like he’d sucked on a lemon. “That and it doesn’t count if the intended protectee is being uncooperative. I think the two of them should be _fired,_ but hey, nobody listens to me,” he grouched. “They’re probably going to galumph in like they own the place. Infantry make _lousy_ bodyguards anyway.”

                “You sound like an old man.”

                “I’m _thirty.”_

                Alex laughed, then butted his head against the edge of Valjean’s chin. “You know that’s, like, twice my age, right?”

                “…Don’t remind me,” he muttered.

                Alex leaned his head against Valjean’s neck, thinking. Then, after a moment of consideration, he asked, “So I take it you have some experience in the area.”

                Valjean eyed him suspiciously. “In what?”

                “Escorting, bodyguarding, the guarding of bodies…whatever it’s called.”

                “ _Some_ experience?” He snorted. “You could say that. And it’s called personal protection.”

                “Wouldn’t that be protecting _yourself?_ Bit of a misnomer.”

                “Depends who’s saying it.” Valjean shrugged and adjusted his vest, heading back toward Will’s room. “The Colonel won’t let me be in charge of your and Will’s security, though. Waste of resources, apparently.”

                Alex perked up a little at that. “Did you _ask?_ ”

                “Well, yeah. _Somebody_ has to take care of you two, and I’d much rather it was someone who knows about you.”

                Alex didn’t quite know how to answer that. He settled for staring at the arrays on his arms, feeling awkwardly pleased.

                Valjean opened the door carefully, peering inside. “He’s still asleep. Is that good?”

                “Yeah, it’s fine. You won’t wake him.”

                “You sure?” Valjean entered anyway, closing the door behind him. “Damn, he’s really conked out.”

                “He actually sleeps better in hospitals. Don’t ask me why.” Alex slid down Valjean’s arm, landing on the back of his hand. Valjean turned his hand and Alex climbed into his palm, looking down at where Will was sprawled over the bed, sheets kicked off to one side. “Besides, he’s still working off Lior.”

                Valjean raised his eyebrows questioningly. Alex wondered if he’d said too much, but continued anyway. “He… doesn’t get a whole lot of sleep most of the time.”

                “That explains why he’s a cranky sumbitch.”

                “No, no,” sighed Alex. “He’s… just like that anyway. But sometimes he just won’t sleep for a few days at a time.”

                “Won’t or can’t?”

                “I don’t know. Both?” Alex sighed again. “I try to get him to sleep when I can. It works sometimes.”

                Valjean just nodded sagely. “It must tire you out, looking out for him all the time.”

                “It’s not like that!” he snapped, a little more harshly than he meant to. “He gave up _everything_ for me, I just – he – he just needs my help a little sometimes, that’s all. And sometimes he’s an idiot and doesn’t listen to me and nearly _dies_ but –“ He sat down, head swimming. He never could understand that, how some emotions still managed to affect him physically.

                Valjean wasn’t looking at him, though. Instead, he nodded just past him, a ghost of a smile on his face.

                Alex turned around. Will’s eyes looked out at him from over his arm, blinking sleepily. “If you’re gonna complain about me,” he said in a mumbled but teasing tone, “do it more _quietly,_ ‘kay?”

                “…I…I…”

                Will reached out and poked Alex with a small smile. “Sorry I made you worry. I wouldn’t exactly call that ‘nearly dying’ though.”

                “There was a lot of fire. I don’t _like_ fire.”

                “You’re made of wood, of course you don’t.” Will flipped over with a groan, pulling a stray strand of hair out of his mouth. “Bleh. How long was I asleep?”

                “A couple hours.” Valjean was smirking now. Alex would have scowled at him given the opportunity. Instead he satisfied himself with kicking the lieutenant’s thumb very vigorously.

                “Oh, _you’re_ here too. Was she too busy or couldn’t be bothered?”

                “Watch your tongue or I’ll hit you so hard you’ll have to stay here a week,” retorted Valjean.

                Will just laughed at that, levering himself up and scratching at his bandages before a glare from Alex stopped him. “Didn’t we _meet_ in a hospital?”

                “And you woke up and insulted me.”

                “Hey, _hey._ Gimme some credit. You looked like a jackass. Actually, you still do.” Will yawned and rubbed at his eyes. “So what now?”

                Alex cut in before Valjean could retort with something that would probably start another fight. “The Colonel is sending your escort here, and they’ll take us h – back to barracks. You should probably apologize to them for dodging them yesterday.”

                “I should probably do a lot of things,” said Will. “Validating them for being shitty at their jobs isn’t heading the list.”

                “That’s what _I_ said!”

                “God forbid either of you get a morale-boosting assignment,” muttered Alex. “Just be _nice_ to them, ok? No running off on them, no evading them, no transmuting awful things into their uniforms –“

                “Oh, I want to hear the story behind that one!”

                “No, you don’t.”

* * *

                The office had been quiet for a while. In fact, it had been quiet outside Diana’s door for _too_ long, so when there was the slam of a door and an excited yell of “Hello, _hello!_ ” she was almost pleased. Almost being the operative word.

                She waited for a moment, then got up and opened her office door, leaning against the side with a smirk. “Hughes, stop pestering my staff.”

                Maes glanced up at her, pictures of Elysia still shoved in Breda’s face. “But it’s what I do best!”

                “Yes, unfortunately. But I’m guessing you came to see me, unless it was _truly_ pressing that Breda be subjected to pictures of your daughter on a tricycle.”

                “It’s such a _cute_ tricycle though…” Nevertheless, Maes folded up his wallet and gave Havoc a nudge on the way past.

                Diana closed the door behind her. (So much for her open-door policy. Today wasn’t exactly a gold-star day.) “Let me guess. You’re here because you want to ‘check up on me’. Like _everybody else._ ”

                “Actually, I didn’t even go to the fight.”

                “Really? I’m _so_ glad I had your support.”

                “I knew it was going to be a disaster from the start. I figured you had enough people watching your every move that you didn’t need me doing it as well.” He smiled, adjusting his glasses and holding up a brown paper bag. “So I brought you lunch.”

                “…Lunch.”

                “C’mon, I know you. You’re gonna sit in here and ignore everything and after a few hours you’re going to break into your emergency scotch. Instead, here’s some hamburgers and a friendly face.”

                She sighed and sat down on the couch, trying to glare at him and not quite succeeding. “You can be _such_ a prat.”

                “Also, the blond one has a crush on you.”

                “Havoc?” She rolled her eyes. “No, I _hadn’t noticed._ ”

                “He’s a handsome one.”

                “He’s also my _subordinate,_ Maes, and as much as I bend the rules, there are some I’m loath to break.”

                Maes put the bag down on her desk, the smell of grease wafting up from it, and he leant forward, clasping his hands. “…Di. You could have said no,” he said quietly.

                “No, I couldn’t have,” she replied. “You were there. I wasn’t going to be the one who stood down and got shown up as being weak-willed. I get enough of that as it is.”

                “I guess. You’re looking pretty shaken up, though.”

                “Of _course_ I am! He’s a kid! And I can never decide whether I’m supposed to forget that and treat him like a soldier or remember it and be his mother, and I’m _completely_ ill-equipped for either option, apparently!” She tugged at the fingers of her gloves, rubbing at the palms, her hands suddenly itchy under the fabric. The ignition cloth didn’t itch nearly as much as the plain cotton. “I didn’t sign up to be his _mother,_ Maes, but nobody else did either,” she grumbled.

                “You don’t need to be his mother. And if you told him that I think he’d probably punch you.”

                “Which is kind of the problem in the first place.”

                “We _were_ talking about you,” he added with a very slight grin. She paused, then threw one of the sofa cushions at his head.

                “That’s _not the point,_ ” she hissed. “And I don’t _want_ to talk about me.”

                “Alright, alright!” He put the sofa cushion back in place, still trying not to grin. Diana glared at him until he managed to straighten his face. “I just think it’s kind of sweet.”

                “Well, you can stop. I’m going to transfer him to another command.”

                _That_ got Maes’s attention. “…Have you thought this through, Diana?”

                “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

                “Wow. You really _are_ upset.”

                “I’m not upset, I’m just –“ Diana abruptly decided she didn’t like this course of conversation. “Tell me about this creature.”

                “Di, come on –“

                “I need to know everything I can. Besides, you know as well as I do that if it shows up here, our divisions will be working together. And the Fuhrer already wants me on it.”

                Maes sighed and nodded. “It…doesn’t leave much behind. Anything metal, a few bones, a lot of blood. We have to identify them with dog tags and dental records usually.”

                “…Well. So much for a cheerful change of subject.”

                “There’s a _reason_ everybody followed the Fuhrer here. We’re about ninety percent sure these alchemists are being eaten by some sort of chimera, but it doesn’t explain why it’s going after State Alchemists, or why none of them were able to defend themselves.”

                A chill ran down her back. “You don’t suppose it’s –“

                Hughes chewed the inside of his cheek. “…It’s possible. We never found her body, and she’d have reason to fear State Alchemists. But the teethmarks are too big, unless she grew to an impossible size. And from what Will told us, she was in an incredible amount of pain.”

                “But it’s possible.”

                “Yes.”

                “You can’t tell him.”

                “I wasn’t planning to.”

                Diana took a deep breath, reaching back and starting to unweave her braid. “I suppose I’ll have to talk to Mustang again.”

                “Well, he’s planning to ask you to dinner _again,_ so that should be a good opportunity.”

                “Really?” She groaned. “That man does _not_ give up.” She paused. The information about the killer was still rolling around in her head. “Hold on. How big are these teeth? Judging from the marks you have.”

                “Big. The creature’s mouth alone would have to be about 2 feet long just to fit teeth of that size.”

                “So why are there remains at all? A mouth that big could swallow a person whole.” Diana hissed in realization. “And probably _has._ It’s leaving remains on purpose! It’s not just targeting State Alchemists to kill, it wants us to know. Mustang _said_ it was intelligent, and it really is – it’s not just sentient, it’s _sending a message._ ”

“And there have probably been any number of disappearances that we didn’t pick up on. People disappear all the time.” Maes cursed loudly, making Diana jump. “How did we _miss_ that?”

                “Because the idea of something that eats people is scary enough,” she responded darkly. “Something that can think for itself enough to be committing purposeful terrorist acts? That’s something else entirely.”

                “So what now?”

                Diana rubbed at her palms again, then closed her hands into fists, willing herself to stop. “Figure out what you can from the crime scene photos. Get your whole team on it – my men as well, if you need fresh eyes. If it’s political, then this creature’s almost _definitely_ coming here.”

                “And you?”

                “I have a date.”

                The dramatic moment, unfortunately, was ruined when Hughes started to cackle. “Havoc will be so disappointed. I can see it now! Pursued by the farmboy lieutenant and the tall, dark, mysterious Fuhrer, however shall she choose?”

                She whacked Hughes on the head. “Piss off.”

* * *

                There were three unspoken rules to being a non-commissioned soldier in the State Military, keep your head down, cover your own ass and don’t ask questions. Warrant Officer Joey Davidson had more or less gotten a handle on the first two. The third was still giving him trouble.

                “Chamond? Sir?”

                Chamond groaned and spat out yet another toothpick that had been rendered into a cracked mess of splinters, pulling another one from his pocket and jamming it into his mouth. “What is it?”

                “Well, you said we were the security detail for Major William Elric.”

                “Yeah, and the bastard deliberately evaded us yesterday. Not feeling particularly warm and fuzzy about it, gotta tell ya.”

                “But Major William Elric, as in the _Fullmetal Alchemist?_ ”

                Chamond glared at him. “We went through this already. Yesterday. You got memory loss or something?”

                “No, but I don’t get why you’re not more excited!”

                “Why should I be?” Chamond opened the door and nodded curtly at the receptionist as they passed into the ICU of the military hospital. “And don’t give me all of that ‘hero’ bullshit again, I don’t wanna hear it.”

                “You don’t wanna hear _nothing,_ ” he sulked.

                “Here’s some advice, Davidson, if you want the higher-ups to take you seriously, you’re going to have to actually _try_ not to sound like a bumpkin.”

                Davidson took that as a sign to stop talking. He kept his mouth stubbornly closed, although he couldn’t quite conceal his glee as Chamond leant over another reception desk and asked for Major Elric’s room. He’d been the coffee boy for Investigations East for three years now, steadily earning promotions for timeliness, good filing and once, memorably, actually helping cordon off a crime scene. But last month, he’d been recruited at the firing range into the Investigations security team, and now, wonder of wonders, he was actually going to meet a State Alchemist. And not just _any_ State Alchemist.

                “Okay, here he is –“ Chamond knocked on the door. Davidson held his breath, and then stopped after Chamond gave him a condescending glare.

                The man who opened the door didn’t look any friendlier. “Oh, it’s you two. I’ve seen you around before.”

                “Sergeant Chamond reporting for duty, sir!”

                “Warrant Officer Davidson reporting for duty, sir!” Davidson’s salute faltered a little. “…You _have?_ ”

                “Yeah. Didn’t think you’d be put on security, though.” He returned the salute, then smirked a little. “Close your mouth, Warrant Officer. You’re gonna swallow a bug. Second Lieutenant Jareth Valjean. Off-duty.”

                “You wouldn’t think so with the way he’s been bossing me around,” came another voice from behind him. Davidson’s heart leapt with anticipation. He didn’t know much about the Fullmetal Alchemist – he just knew the stories that followed the young man around wherever he went.

                Valjean grinned and ducked between the two men. “Yeah, well, he’s your problem now, gentlemen.”

                “Oh, and I get to give them orders and everything, right?” The second figure unfolded himself from the bed with a careless grace, only marred when he winced a little straightening up. It was the Fullmetal Alchemist himself, automail and all. And a skirt. Davidson… hadn’t been expecting that. From the look on Chamond’s face, neither had he.

                Valjean clicked his tongue. “Behave. And remember, they might report to you, but you answer to _me._ ”

                “Actually, technically, I outrank you.”

                “And I can pick you up with one hand. What’s your point?”

                Fullmetal’s only response was to stick out his tongue. Valjean smirked and gave him a lazy wave as he disappeared down the hall – leaving the two soldiers alone with him.

                Fullmetal blinked at them. “…So… I can order you around?”

                Chamond’s eye was twitching, noted Davidson, trying not to laugh at the poor Sergeant. “Yes,” he forced out between gritted teeth.

                Fullmetal snickered, then adjusted his watch chain on his hip. “Okay, let’s blow this dump. I’m in hospitals enough as it is.”

                “Yes, sir,” mumbled Chamond. Davidson just nodded, trying to figure out in his head just _how_ someone’s hair could get that long.

                “Bleh.” Fullmetal stuck out his tongue again. Davidson made another mental note of it – it was pointed and very thin, although he supposed his little sister probably wouldn’t be asking him about the Fullmetal Alchemist’s tongue. “You know, I’m not really in the mood for getting sirred and Major’d all over the place. Just call me Will, okay?”

                Davidson couldn’t believe his luck. His sister was _never_ going to believe it. “You’re sure?”

                “Yes, I’m sure! Unless you _want_ to put your back out saluting me every time I ask for a drink of water,” he snapped. Then he bent his head a little, and sighed. “I’m on edge. Don’t mind me.”

                “I heard you had a bit of a scramble with the Flame Alchemist,” offered Davidson helpfully, or so he thought.

                “I lost on _purpose,_ I’ll have you know,” replied Fullmetal – Will, he supposed, for now – in a slightly hurt tone. “Which is why I’m not too keen on her grand idea that I need to be babysat. But I’ll live with it for now. Let’s go.” He walked between them, leaving space for Chamond to give Davidson a questioning look. Davidson just shrugged, and followed Will dutifully down the linoleum-and-plaster hallway.

                “Oh!” said Will suddenly, startling them both. “I nearly forgot! One sec,” he said, rushing over to the reception desk and leaning over to talk to the nurse. “Can you check Doctor Holland’s appointments from here? Apparently he’s been asking after me.”

                The nurse shook her head. “I’m afraid there’s no point, love. Doctor Holland’s out of town.”

                “He is?” Will scowled. “Man, trust a shrink to disappear right when you – uh…” He glanced behind him, and then shrugged. “Never mind, then. I didn’t have to get reminded or anything,” he grumbled.

                It was only outside that Chamond actually raised the question. “You’re seeing a shrink?”

                “The shrink sees _me,_ ” growled Will in response.

                “I thought you were the big tough hero.”

                “Hey, nobody told _me._ And it’s none of your goddamn business.”

                “But –“

                Davidson chose this moment to interrupt. “Well, _I_ think it’s brave.” He probably would have said setting mousetraps was brave if the Fullmetal Alchemist was doing it, but the sentiment held. “I heard about you in that town outside New Optain,” he offered up shyly.

                “Which one?” asked Will a little wryly.

                “Habersham. You took on a rogue alchemist all by yourself, and you saved the whole town! It was amazing!”

                Will grinned at that, although a little awkwardly. “Not _all_ by myself. I had help.”

                “Still. I think you’re a hero.”

                “You know, I think I’ve decided I like you. Sergeant, can I keep him?”

                Chamond’s only response was to roll his eyes in disgust. Still, Davidson thought his first real gig on security detail was off to a very, _very_ good start.

* * *

                He couldn’t remember much. Most of it was tainted by pain and the invasive sense of _something else_ – but some things stayed with him. The sound of their voices. He’d never forget those. The scent of her perfume. The cracking sound of his ribs being forced open, the coppery smell of his own blood as it poured over the sand –

                -and eyes of gold, burning like the sun, unblinking, unwavering. Eyes without mercy.

                Eyes that had left a trail. Eyes that had led him here.

                For the first time since he had been unmade, he smiled.


	28. Enter Sandman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Translation: “I am the messenger of rage, of judgment, of Ishvala”. It's probably REALLY BAD and if anybody can correct it for me I would be ETERNALLY GRATEFUL. -needs to learn Arabic-
> 
> Trigger warning: majorly squicky gore, body horror, violence, sex/sexuality, casual ableist language, implied child abuse/trauma.
> 
> Lyrics by Metallica.

~28~

_Hush little baby, don't say a word_

_And never mind that noise you heard_

_It's just the beast under your bed_

_In your closet_

_In your head_

_**-Enter Sandman** _

 

There was something in his eyes. Something _bright._ He opened one eye carefully, then groaned and pulled the blankets over his head, trying to remember what had possessed him to leave the blinds _open._

“Finally, you're awake.”

Will tried to grumble something that was supposed to be, “Quiet, Alex.”

“It's  _late._ Don't grump at me.”

“Don't wanna be awake.” He made a small hole in his cocoon and glared at Alex, who was sitting in his usual place next to the lamp.

“You have to report in today. Remember? Your job?”

Will made another face at Alex, then reached out and poked Alex's stomach, the force making Alex fall into a sitting position. “Click click.”

“...Click click?”

“Turning off my alarm.”

“Oh,  _hilarious.”_

Will groaned and sat up, pulling a few wild strands of hair out of his face. “I'm on  _bed rest_ or something, right?”

“Nope.”

He let out another unintelligible grunt, then with a defeated sigh, rolled over and out of the bed onto the floor with a 'thunk'.

“Oh come on!”

“Nnnrr.” Will rolled onto his side, sticking out his tongue in Alex's general direction. “But we have a  _nice_ floor.”

“It's barracks. I wouldn't stick your face in it - god knows the last time it was cleaned.”

“I  _like_ this floor. I'm staying here.”

There was another frustrated sigh from Alex, and a second later, he appeared in front of Will's face, hitting the floor with a slightly less impressive 'click'.

“I thought I told you to stop doing that,” murmured Will, blinking a little.

“Well, you never do what I tell  _you._ ”

“But I'm the big brother, it's my  _job._ ”

Alex snorted. “Well, right now your job is to get up and make yourself some coffee so you're not a total robot for the rest of the day.”

Will grumbled a concession, managing to lever himself somewhat upright, wincing a little. His automail ports were sensitive – that usually meant there was going to be a rainstorm – and the bandages around his flesh limbs were aching as well. “Remind me to change these tonight,” he murmured crankily, before finally managing to get himself upright. “Ok, I'm up, I'm getting dressed.”

“And I suppose you're wearing the same clothes again.”

“Yup!”

“Will, you have to promise to wash them tonight.”

Will pulled a face, tugging his skort on underneath the shirt he'd slept in. “Yeah, yeah, fine.” He pulled the shirt over his head, then blew his hair out of his face. “Where would I be without you?”

“Living in a pigsty.” Alex clambered up onto the bed, then jumped onto Will's automail, climbing up into his little space behind Will's hair. “Now come on, we're wasting daylight.”

“ _Why_ are you a morning person again?” Will groaned, adjusted his top and headed for the door. He opened it -

“Good morning, sir!”

Will sprang backwards, ducking into position. Then his mind finished processing. He sighed, rubbing his temple. “....Good morning, Davidson.”

Chamond poked his head around the doorframe, then snorted. “You forgot we were here, didn't you?”

“I'll take none of that backtalk from you, soldier!”

“Yes, sir,” Chamond replied in a resigned tone, although Will could see a sparkle in the soldier's eyes. “So what now?”

“Well, I'm _supposed_ to report back in to the Colonel. But instead, I'm buying you breakfast.”

Chamond and Davidson looked at each other, then back at Will.

“Can we get croissants?”

“You _idiot._ ”

* * *

“Jareth, you're not paying _attention._ ”

“I'm paying plenty of attention,” he murmured.

Diana snickered, face still in her closet. “I know my butt is mesmerizing, but this is serious.”

“You have a grand total of three dresses. I don't know why this is such a meaningful decision.”

“Because,” Diana grunted as she yanked a shoe off the top shelf, then sighed as she reached back in to find the matching one. “this is the _Fuhrer._ ”

“I know you want to get back to Central and all, but aren't you getting a little...” Jareth searched for the word, then gave up, slumping back on the pillows and folding his arms behind his head. “I mean, I have no problems with illicit lunch-break sex, but it's a little risky, don't you think?”

“Life is risky. It's also short.” Diana pulled out another dress. “...That being said, you should probably head back before anybody comes looking for you.”

“If they find me I'll just say I'm being a faithful, caring lieutenant.”

Diana snorted. “Well, faithful lieutenant should probably put on a _shirt._ ”

He grinned and shrugged his black tank top over his shoulders, keeping his eyes on Diana. Then, after a moment of watching her, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “...It's still bothering you, huh?”

“Don't know what you're talking about,” she mumbled.

Jareth got to his feet and wrapped his arm around her waist, burying his face in her neck. “It wasn't your fault.”

“Yeah, well...” she mumbled. “Maes was right. I should have said no.”

“Mustang's a dick. He probably would have made it a direct order.”

“Well, I'm going on a date with him.” She sighed. “Hooray.”

He reached out and pointed at one of the dresses. “You should wear that one. And the heels.”

“Jareth, that dress has been around the whole damn country.”

“And yet you still look amazing in it.” He kissed her cheek. “Lunch break is almost over. You should put your uniform back on.”

“I hate that thing. So much.” She sighed and pulled Jareth's arms away, kicking the blue trousers into the air and catching them. “Who _designed_ this?”

“Certainly not me. Too many twiddly bits.”

Diana sat back down on her bed, rubbing the fabric of her uniform between her fingers. “...I told Maes I'd request a transfer for Fullmetal. What do you think?”

Jareth sat down next to her, thinking it through. It had been a while since he'd seen her so distressed. “Look, I – I know it's getting to you -”

“You don't get it, Jareth. I was _angry._ I snapped because I was angry. That's...” She tugged at her hair in frustration. “I _promised!_ I fucking promised -”

“Hey. Hey, hey. Look at me.” Jareth took her hands – she'd already pulled her gloves on, but he could feel the calluses on her fingers through the thin material – and held them as tightly as he dared. “This is different. Okay?”

Diana chewed on her lip thoughtfully. “...I suppose.”

“Besides, Will's _fine._ Little bastard was sassing out the nurses.”

She snickered at that. “Alright, pass me my shirt.”

“Can I get another kiss first?”

“Oh, you -”

Predictably, they were late back to work anyway.

* * *

“ - so then I just gave _them_ the deed. The asshole looked ready to throw a _fit_ when they kicked him out!”

“And you didn't get in trouble?”

“For what?” asked Will innocently, and then cackled at the look on Chamond's face. “Has anybody ever told you you're _way_ too much of a stick-in-the-mud?”

“I have!” offered Davidson helpfully. Will reached over and patted him on the head absentmindedly.

“Fullmetal, sir,” asked Chamond with an undertone of frustration, “where are we going? You've gone to three libraries today, flipped through several dozen books and then left again. Are you actually _doing_ anything?”

Will laughed nervously. “Uhm...”

Chamond sighed. “Are you avoiding the Colonel?”

“No comment,” he mumbled, ignoring the way Alex very, _very_ pointedly cleared his throat.

Chamond stuck another toothpick in his mouth, eyeing Will with a look he wasn't quite sure he liked. “Ya know, you might be a talented alchemist, but you are a _shitty_ soldier.”

“Like _that's_ news.” Will started to walk off again, but Chamond grabbed his collar.

“Not happening. Our job is to protect you, and I'm making the call that that includes _not_ wandering aimlessly around the city looking like a walking target.”

“How am I a walking target?!”

“How are you _not_ a walking target?” Chamond adjusted his holster. “Come on, let's get you back to Eastern Command – _Davidson!_ ”

“What?” Davidson snapped back to attention, yanking his eyes away from a display of flowers.

Chamond groaned. “... _Flowers,_ Officer?”

“I was just looking!”

“Well, we're moving.”

Will was about to complain, but Alex stopped him, yanking on his earlobe. “They're right, you know. And you really do need to see the Colonel.”

“Yeah,” he murmured back, “but that doesn't mean I need to be _eager_ about it -” He stopped. Something had moved in the corner of his eye. The back of his neck prickled. “Chamond.”

“Sir?”

Will glanced behind him. He didn't see anything, but that meant fuck-all on this street – there were dozens of alleys and smaller streets branching off from it. He lowered his voice so that only the two bodyguards could hear, pulling Davidson in a little closer. “...I think we might be being followed.”

“Followed?”

Chamond looked at him warily. “Is this like that time you dodged us because you thought _we_ were following _you?_ ”

“Technically, you _were._ Just...keep an eye out, alright? And stop looking at flowers.”

Chamond seemed ready to say something else, but instead, he nodded, discreetly unholstering his pistol and holding it against his thigh as they moved along the street. “We can try to lose them in the smaller streets.”

“Think it's worth the risk?”

“Worst comes to worst, at least we'll be putting fewer people in danger.”

Will blinked, then inclined his head. He hadn't expected that from Chamond. “I don't spend enough time here. What's the best way to go?”

Davidson answered this time. “Two streets up, swing left.” At Will's look, he flushed and grinned sheepishly. “I live down this way.”

“That's a plus.” Again, Will felt the sensation down his spine, the feeling of being watched. _Just...take a breath. Sometimes you just...get freaked out, is all._ They turned on to one of the smaller streets, and Will swallowed, trying not to break into a run. He reached up to his shoulder, and when Alex grasped his finger, he felt a little better.

Still, it couldn't hurt to check, one more time. He turned his head, and saw nothing but another empty alleyway -

-and suddenly the world caved in.

* * *

“Diana! You look _gorgeous,_ ” exclaimed Mustang the moment she opened the door. Then, after a moment of processing, he gave her a slightly less impressed look. “...And taller than usual.”

She couldn't help but smile, walking outside and closing the door behind her. “I wore the heels just for you.”

“Cruel and heartless. Now I remember why I like you so much.”

“You needed reminding?” She stood up a little straighter. She was enjoying this part of things possibly a little too much – for all the authority and power he possessed, the Fuhrer only came up to her chest.

“Don't sass me, young lady.” He cleared his throat and offered his arm. “The car is waiting. Do you like Maybelle's?”

She smiled. “I can't say I've ever been.”

“Me neither! First thing on the list, a toast to the spirit of adventure.”

Diana smiled, tugging up on her glove. They were long black ones this time, reaching up past her elbow. Mustang noticed the gesture, raising an eyebrow at her. “How many pairs is that?”

“As many as I need.”

“Mm. So where are the arrays on this one?” He grinned as he opened the car door, and Diana eased herself in, wincing as she hit some of her bruises from the fight.

“A lady doesn't reveal _all_ her secrets on the first date, sir.”

“Oh, drop the sir. I'm calling you Diana, aren't I?” He slid in beside her, and tapped the glass in front of them. The car jolted into motion. “Go ahead and call me Roy. I _promise_ nobody is going to shoot you for it.”

“You promise, do you?”

Roy pulled a hurt face. “You don't believe me. How insulting. Is this why it took three tries to get you to go out with me?”

“You'd have better luck if you stopped asking out women half your age.”

“Oh, and now you force me to face cold, hard reality! Your barbs _wound_ me.”

* * *

Will opened his eyes. A second later, he closed them again, rubbing furiously at the dust that was still settling. “Ugh. Fuck.” Something had hit him – he wasn't sure what.

After a moment, he tried again, looking out at the pavement from a decidedly crooked angle. Then he levered himself up onto his feet, feeling a _very_ ominous click from his automail leg. It was responding slowly, too – Selim was gonna _kill_ him.

“Alex?” he murmured hopefully. There was no response, and he reached up to his shoulder. Nothing. “Alex...” he whispered again, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. _He's probably fine. The... whatever-it-was probably just knocked him loose._

Whatever it _had_ been had taken down a whole wall from the looks of it. “Davidson? Chamond? Are you there?” No response from them, either. He wasn't getting a good feeling about any of this.

There was the sound of footsteps behind him. Not even waiting to check who it was, Will dropped back down onto one knee, clapping his hands together and pulling a spear of stone out of the cobbled ground, spinning around to aim it at whoever was approaching.

The man behind him stopped, the point of the spear an inch from his chest. “The Fullmetal Alchemist.”

Will gulped, but met his steady gaze with a sarcastic look. “You looking for me or something?”

The man inclined his head, almost a nod. He was tall, with white hair and a vivid scar crossing his face beneath his glasses. “For a long time.”

“...What do you want?”

The man clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth. Then, his hand shot out, grabbing the shaft of the spear. “Everything you _took._ ” It bent, groaned and snapped beneath his fingers.

“I... I...” Will stammered, trying to respond – then ducked as the man swung at him, still holding the spear-point. “I don't _know_ you!” He couldn't find Alex – _where was Alex -_

Will braced himself on the ground and kicked at the stranger's ankle... and it barely moved. “Fuck,” he had time to mutter before he had to roll out of the way of another punch. “What is your fuckin' _deal?_ ” he yelled, praying mentally that his leg would hold up. And then he saw the ground where the punch had landed, the stones split and broken... “What the _hell_ are you?”

The man turned and looked at him, snarling. “ _Ana rasulu qiyamah, ghadab, Ishvala_.”

“I – I can't – I don't – oh, _screw_ this -” Will waited for the stranger to lunge at him again. He stepped to the side, and swung his fists into the side of his head. “Fuck you, treetrunk, I have shit to do!”

The man's head collided with the wall, and he collapsed onto one knee. Will was somewhat disappointed and more than a little intimidated – he'd _expected_ him to conk out completely. No such luck. Will backed away, and felt something trickle down his cheek. He wiped his face, then glared at the red stain on his hand.

He almost turned and ran towards the now-clear opening of the alleyway – but Alex was still somewhere in the mess of rubble. “Now would be a really good time to transmute something,” he called out, clapping his hands and transmuting his automail as the man got to his feet again, turning to face him. The glasses had snapped in two, and now Will could see the extent of the scar – it crossed over both eyelids, angry and puckered and raw.

Then he looked up at Will. His eyes were a brilliant red. Will took an involuntary step back, glancing at the pile of rubble again – if Alex hadn't responded by now, something _had_ to be wrong -

“You won't escape me,” he growled. “No one has.”

Will's blood ran cold. _Can't be him. Not already – not all the way from Central -_

“Get _down!_ ” Will obeyed the command instantly, collapsing on the ground. The man reached for him, almost as if he hadn't heard – and a shot rang out, ripping through his head. The red eyes disappeared in a fountain of blood. Another shot. His stomach. Another shot. His leg.

Will held his breath until the teetering corpse fell, spattering him with gore. Then, after he'd caught his breath, he turned to look at who had saved him.

Chamond gave him a brisk nod – and from Chamond's shoulder, Alex waved at him. The adrenaline left his system in a rush, and he wiped some more of the blood off his face, pulling himself up on the jagged brick of the wall that was still standing. “...Thanks.” He didn't want to think about the fact that Alex had revealed himself to someone – it had probably saved both their lives.

“Just my job, sir.”

Will gave him a wry look at that. “See what happens when I buy breakfast for people, Alex?” he laughed, although he could hear how strained it was. He picked up Alex and placed him securely on his shoulder again, brushing what looked suspiciously like sawdust out of the yarn on his head. “What happened to you?”

“Got snapped in half by a brick,” muttered Alex quietly.

“ _What?_ ”

“Hey, you were the one who had some muscly freak beating you up! I get broken all the time, you can _relax._ ”

“Well, what if your blood seal gets damaged?” Will poked the top of Alex's head. “Take better care of yourself -”

“Oh my _god_ this is coming from _you –_ and what did you do to your _leg -_ ”

“Sir!” interrupted Chamond, a note of fright in his voice. His gun was up again. “He's not down!”

Will's head snapped up. The corpse they'd left in the street – the body with a shot through its brain – was moving. “What -?” was all he managed to get out, as the man who had attacked him slowly rose to his feet and faced them again. The bullet had ripped away half of his face – but there was something flickering around the exposed flesh of his brain, the skin hanging down over his cheek, the fragments of bone visible through the pulp. Red sparks. And as they watched, the red eyes reappeared, still bright with some unknown hatred, staring them down as the rest of his wound healed itself, bones and muscles and skin knitting themselves back together.

None of them moved. The gruesome display held them with a mix of fear, fascination and disgust, and Will wondered with a strange calmness when he was going to wake up. Nobody could have survived that wound. _Therefore, nobody is there,_ the capricious part of his mind tried to tell him, but he ignored it, forced himself to focus.

The man – the _creature –_ straightened up, the bullet wounds in his leg and stomach disappearing. But he stumbled, hesitated – and threw an arm over his stomach. There were bandages there, stained red by the injury that was no longer there (it shouldn't have fazed Will as much as it did, unreality was part of his _life_ but this was unreality that was here and real and impossible but _it was happening)._ They looped up, over his chest, wound so tight that they almost looked like a shirt. And something was straining at them.

The creature stared straight at Will, lips pale. “I gave you the opportunity to die quickly, alchemist,” he spat, but his eyes had lost some of their hard anger. Instead, he looked afraid.

The bandages began to tear.

 


	29. Battle Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER GAVE ME SO MUCH TROUBLE BUT I THINK IT WAS WORTH IT
> 
> TW for violence, blood, gore, PTSD/trauma, food and alcohol, body horror, colonialism/invasion reference (dunno really how to tag that but hopefully that's clear enough?). Seriously, if Gluttony   
> freaked you out too badly in either series, consider yourself warned.
> 
> Lyrics are by Imagine Dragons.

~29~

 

_Stars are only visible in darkness_

_Fear is ever-changing and evolving_

_and I have been poisoned inside_

_but I, I feel so alive_

_nobody can save me now_

 

_**-Battle Cry** _

 

The light was warm, the music was modern and the wine was strong – all in all, Diana decided she rather liked Maybelle's, especially since somebody else was picking up the tab.

“So,” sighed Mustang, sitting back in his chair and putting down his glass of wine to fold his hands over his stomach, “let's talk business.”

“Oh, _must_ we?” Her disappointment wasn't all feigned either.

“I'm afraid so.” He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. “What  _have_ you been doing on the Eastern border?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Me? Nothing.”

“Don't play with me, Diana. Your pet alchemist does what you tell him to, doesn't he? Well,” he smirked, “aside from  _knock._ ”

“He's a child. He makes mistakes.”

“Mhm. Well, he's made a considerable one in Lior, it looks like.”

Diana's blood ran cold. “Lior?”

Mustang plucked an olive from the small dish on the table and popped it in his mouth. “You know, I always wonder how they pit these -”

“ _Sir,_ ” she interrupted. “What happened?”

“I did tell you to call me Roy,” he said somewhat petulantly. “He deposed the governor, somewhat forcefully. Now, I can see  _why_ it happened – Cornello was power-hungry, brutal – no, far better that he was eliminated from the equation. Unfortunately, the city's devolved back into civil unrest instead of electing another governor.”

“It's a period of transition. Those are always messy.”

But Mustang shook his head. “You know what the terms of the deal with the Eastern territories were, don't you? Of course you do, you're stationed here.”

She nodded, feeling a little dazed. “Self-government in exchange for complete disarmament.”

“Well, it worked for a while, didn't it? But if the Liorans got themselves so wrapped up in this governor's lies, who's to say it won't happen again?”

Diana frowned. “Sir –  _Roy –_ if you disregard the treaty, there's no guarantee that all the cities won't take up arms.”

“This is an extreme case. For the Liorans, self-government hasn't worked out. So I'm going to send in troops, end the fighting by any means necessary, and install a military overseer. And you had better advise Fullmetal in the future to be more careful where he treads.” Mustang, however, didn't look terribly upset. If anything, he looked pleased.

Diana raised her wine glass to her lips, trying to conceal her look of disappointment. She'd wanted the governor replaced – that was all. Will had deposed him. But the Fuhrer had gone off-script.

_Serves me right,_ she thought darkly, but pushed it away. National security came first.

* * *

Across the street from the restaurant, Riza Hawkeye watched Solaris through her scope and resisted the urge to put a hole through the Colonel's pretty head. She couldn't  _stand_ people like her. Perhaps it was just jealousy, but she'd never been particularly given over to that type of emotion, and if it took Solaris to trigger it after the hundreds of dates Mustang had ordered her to keep a deadly eye on, then that would be rather disappointing. Not to mention somewhat embarrassing.

No, it was the apparent ease with which Roy was wrapping Solaris around his finger. Riza had expected better, but people had a habit of disappointing her.

As she watched, Solaris leant back and sipped her wine with a not-altogether-happy look on her face. Her heartbeat had increased – Riza could see that through the scope – but she had it pretty together otherwise. “Guess he told her about Lior,” she muttered.

There was a sudden burst of static from beside her. She grabbed the radio. “This is Shield One. Who is this?”

“ _Shield One, this is – um - I – this is Warrant Officer Joey Davidson! There's something wrong, there's something really bad happening!”_

Riza pushed herself up from her prone position and hissed into the radio, “Get off the command-wide channel, soldier. Channel 3. Now.”

He did so, and the same panicked, almost-sobbing tone came through the radio again. “ _Something's wrong! I-I think it's him!”_

“Think it's who?” She injected ice into her voice, hoping to shock him back into his senses.

_“The thing that -that goes after State Alchemists – me and Chamond were on guard detail for Fullmetal and the wall came down, Chamond went after him and I heard shots -”_

“Location, Warrant Officer.  _Now._ ” She ran to the edge of the roof, slipping her sunglasses on as she went. She grabbed the side of the ladder and slid down, not even bothering to touch the rungs.

_“East side of Main,_ ” he stammered,  _“Um – we were going down Quartz -”_

“Keep your position and wait for backup.” She switched back to the command-wide channel.  _“Shield One, calling all available units, requesting backup at Quartz and Main. Threat level unknown, proceed with caution.”_ She slammed open the door of the restaurant and marched over to Mustang's table. “Sir. Problem.”

Mustang glanced up from his plate of food. “Miss Hawkeye,” he replied glibly. “Couldn't you have waited until I'd at least tasted my Cretan sausage?”

She ignored the taunt and turned to Solaris. “Your subordinate's under attack.”

Solaris reacted immediately, getting to her feet. “Will?” she asked sharply, already headed for the door and tugging at the fingers of her long glove. “I should have  _known._ ”

Riza gave Mustang a questioning look. He sighed and pushed himself out from the table, wiping his mouth and giving his sausage a mournful look. “Box this up and send it to Eastern Command, would you? Good girl.” He got up and followed Solaris out, gesturing to Riza to go ahead of him. “We might as well see what all the fuss is about, shouldn't we?”

Riza tried not to sigh in exasperation.  _At least try to act worried, idiot,_ she wanted to yell at him, but she kept her mouth shut. Instead, she managed to catch up to Solaris just as the colonel was yanking the rather distressed-looking chauffeur out of the car, and wordlessly slid into the passenger seat.

“You're coming?”

“I never finished updating you on the situation, Colonel,” she replied smoothly. “I've requested backup from available units to location Main and Quartz -”

“That's not far.” Solaris gunned the motor, and Riza closed her eyes briefly as the car lurched into motion. “Five, ten minutes max.”

“I would have estimated fifteen,” Riza murmured with a sense of trepidation.

“Not with the way I drive.” Solaris spun the wheel, and Riza tried not to hold her breath as the car swiveled round a corner.

“How did you know it was Fullmetal?” she managed to ask, once the car had settled onto a more-or-less straight path and her stomach had settled along with it. She pulled out one of her pistols and checked the bullets, although she knew they probably wouldn't do much good.

Solaris squeezed the steering wheel grimly. “It's  _always_ Fullmetal,” she muttered blackly, but the irritation in her voice couldn't hide the very real fear.

* * *

There was something on the man's chest. No – Will corrected himself, stomach plunging in senseless horror – there was something  _inside._ Before the bandages had started to fall, he grabbed Chamond and pushed him back out into the main road. “Get them out of here,” he demanded, and when Chamond opened his mouth to complain, Will didn't even bother – he slapped Chamond across the face. “That's an  _order!_ ”

The sergeant nodded, looking a little nonplussed, then started directing people away. Will slammed a hand against the road, and a wall shot up between him and Chamond – sealing him and Alex away with the unknown threat.

Their attacker was slumped against the wall now, holding the tattered bandages to his chest in a last-ditch effort to keep whatever they had been meant to conceal from emerging. “What is it, then?” Will asked mockingly, shoving his fear down,  _down,_ he didn't need it - “You a chimera? Some other kind of experiment gone wrong?”

“Will, don't -”

“What  _did_ you do to yourself?” Except Will knew that was wrong the moment it came out of his mouth, because why else would he be coming after State Alchemists? Why else would he be  _here?_ And suddenly images of Nina were rushing at him like a storm and he was an idiot, such an  _idiot -_

The man pulled his arms away with a snarl, and his chest snarled too, wicked teeth grinning from an abyss carved into his torso by some inhuman hand. “May Ishvala cast you down.”

“Will?” came Alex's nervous voice from near his ear. Will hung onto it, trying not to let himself remember the last time, trying not to stare too much at the shadows that were beginning to pour like molasses from between the teeth embedded in his opponent's skin. “You have a plan? Right? You didn't just lock us in here?”

“Don't worry,” murmured Will in a voice he didn't recognize. “You're not thinking big enough.”

The monster took a step forward. Will threw himself to the side, landed on his hands and somersaulted himself on top of the pile of rubble still blocking the other end of the alley – and his leg slipped. “Fuck!” He picked himself up, giving his automail leg a vicious glare and grabbing the side of the building. “Alex, a little help?”

“With  _what?_ ”

Will hoisted himself up onto the roof of the building, a few slates sliding off under his feet. “Caging the fucker!”

“Oh!” Alex slid down Will's arm, flinging himself onto the pile of rubble and touching one of the arrays on his arm. There was a glow of blue, and a horrible grinding sound filled the air as the rubble transformed into a solid wall. At the same time, Will clapped his hands and shoved them against the slate roof-tiles, and a lid shot out across the block they'd isolated, Alex jumping on top of it as it appeared.

Will sat back and released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. “Come on, Alex. I dunno how long that'll hold.” He held out a hand, frowning at his leg. Something had definitely gone wonky inside of it, but he'd just have to deal with it for now.

Then he saw the cars massed along the street. “Shit. Shit!  _Idiots!_ ”

“Will?”

He got shakily to his feet and ran to the edge of the roof, overlooking the street. Chamond glared up at him. “That was stupid.”

“Not as stupid as a whole fuckload of soldiers showing up!” he yelled down. “What were you  _thinking?_ ”

“It wasn't me."

“Then who -” Will cut himself off. Davidson was climbing woozily out of one of the black cars, face stained with blood. “Oh.”

Another voice rang out, distracting him from Davidson. “Fullmetal! Get down from there and explain yourself!”

Will snorted, easing himself down into a sitting position then slipping down on the street, landing with a jolt and steadying himself with one hand. “You really shouldn't be here.”

Solaris slammed the car door. “Spare me. Your escorts thought there was a problem. Is there?”

“In a manner of speaking.” There was that unsteady feeling in his chest again, the familiarity he was trying not to acknowledge (the jaws had opened like a door, the shape was the same as its gaze). “I found who's been killing the State Alchemists. Which is why surrounding it with soldiers is kind of like offering it an all-you-can-eat buffet. Now get them out of here.”

“No. This is their job. Now tell me what exactly it is we're dealing with.”

“That's gonna be hard. I have no fucking clue.” He could feel Alex's grip tightening on him – Alex could feel his heartbeat racing, that was right, Alex knew his mask was going to slip  _no time for this just get them out of here damn it -_

There was a thunderous crash. Will flinched at the sound and turned to look. A spiderweb of cracks was splintering through the concrete wall he'd put up. “Colonel -?”

She yanked off her long, black glove, turning it inside out with one smooth motion and pulling it back on. “Soldiers, take aim! Target is unknown and dangerous. Shoot to kill.” She glared at Will. “And  _no heroics._ ”

Will gulped, trying to figure out how to articulate what he needed to tell her. “Colonel – I -”

There was another thud. More cracks appeared in the concrete, and something bled from the cracks, pushing grime in front of it, viscous and dark -

Solaris raised her arm. “Ready!” The soldiers, arranged in a half-circle around the alley entrance, all ducked down into crouches and prepared their guns. “Aim!”

The wall blew outwards in a storm of debris, a cloud of dirt billowing into the air. Solaris dropped her arm. “Fire!” The rifles went off, a hail of bullets peppering the place where the monster should, by all rights, be.

Will shielded his eyes with one arm, peering through the dust, wondering if perhaps a volley had done what Chamond's single bullet had failed to do. ( _Of course you can't kill it,_ hissed something in the back of his head,  _you know what that is -_ )

“Hold your fire!” Solaris commanded, adjusting her glove. “Eyes open, safety off, fingers on triggers.” She nodded her head towards Davidson, although she didn't take her eyes off the cloud that was still settling. “Warrant Officer, you're injured. Head to the perimeter and update HQ.”

Will looked over at Davidson again. The blood from his head wound seemed to have stopped for now, but the red coating his face did nothing to take away from his boyish features – it made it that much more ghastly. “Colonel, requesting permission to remain!”

“Permission denied.”

“I abandoned my post and my charge was injured. If Major Elric stays, then it's my duty to stay and protect him.”

“I told you, no fucking heroics. Permission denied. Get the fuck out of here before I put  _you_ in front of the firing squad.”

Will was only partially listening to them. “Alex, something should have happened by now, right?” The sun was starting to set, and the dusk was bringing a fine mist with it – he kept blinking, trying to clarify his vision, eyes darting this way and that.

“I don't know,” Alex murmured back. “Maybe it worked.”

A shadow passed at the edge of his vision. He turned his head towards it, and even as he thought he'd imagined it, there was a scream. He swivelled on his heel – and gaped. One of the soldiers was hanging upside-down above the ground, held fast by something black and not-quite-there -

“ _Brother!_ ”

The man who should have been dead was standing in the hole in the wall, shoulders heaving with barely-concealed rage. But the massive mouth that was bursting out of him was grinning, and the shadow that held the helpless soldier led straight into its black depths.

“Fire!”

“Hold your fire!” countered Will, his stasis suddenly broken. “It didn't do a damned thing last time!”

“Don't -”

He smacked a fist into Solaris's shoulder, already taking uneasy steps backwards. “It's after  _military,_ you  _idiot._ Got any great plans for killing it?”

“Just one,” she hissed, and snapped her fingers. The fire danced, sparked and then speared towards the gaping mouth – only to disappear, swallowed up by the black emptiness. The man staggered, lowered his head, but the shadows did not stop.

“What the hell is this -”

“I didn't sign up for no nightmares, man!”

A shot fired, another, then another. Will's head snapped towards the sound – some of the men were firing at the insubstantial limb, its captive still struggling and yelling for help. The bullets passed through it harmlessly, and the shadow began to drag the man inexorably towards the portal, more winding around his neck, his arms, his chest -

“Everybody, get  _back!_ ” he yelled, but he was running forward, alchemy sparking at his fingertips. There was still time. He was close enough. If he could just distract the beast, then -

A bullet whipped over his shoulder, and hit the screaming soldier in the middle of the forehead. His neck snapped backwards, and Will watched his body go limp. A few moments later, the teeth closed around his head with a sickening crunch.

Will heard Alex's screaming through the static. He raised his eyes from the corpse and met the man's red eyes, searching for.... He wasn't sure what. “Why?” he asked, or perhaps just mouthed, but the only answer he got was the strange realization that the man was just as scared as him.

“Fullmetal, time to go.” The woman who had appeared next to him was strangely familiar, thought Will dazedly. She yanked him, hard. “Move!”

He followed her, breaking into a run – and then the ground was rushing up to meet him again. Something was holding his arm. Something  _black._

It was the Gate all over again.

“Will, it's your automail arm,” came Alex's voice, insistent and tense.

“ _Thanks,_ ” snarled Will - and then it processed. The shadowy tendril pulled on him again, and he braced his feet against the ground, his other hand searching around the port of his arm. Another tendril crept up on him and he took a few steps towards the monster, abandoning his ground – and he found the switch. He trapped the scream in his throat, forced it down as his arm tore away.

“I'm here, I'm here,” whispered Alex, and Will clutched his empty shoulder, stumbling away. His knee hit the road, and he felt pieces of broken asphalt scraping against his skin through the bandages.

The woman – Hawkeye, that was her name – hauled him to his feet again, firing a few shots not at the portal itself but at the man behind it. “That should slow him down at least. We're all retreating.”

“He's...” Will gasped for breath, grasped for Alex, felt the fabric and slippery wood beneath his fingers, “I gotta stop him somehow. A – a barrier -”

“You can't do alchemy with just one arm,” Alex replied.  _He can't remember the Gate,_ Will realized,  _but he can remember how it feels._

“No. You have to start it – I can work with your circles but you have to guide it.”

“He collapsed a  _wall_ on us! How are we going to stop him?”

“He can break through brick. It took him time to get through concrete -” They had reached the others, who had stopped at the perimeter, staring back in horror. Will turned around.

The man was approaching them still, the bullet holes Hawkeye had inflicted half-healed and dripping blood down his face and arms. And the mouth gaped open at them, almost laughing, pointed teeth stained with a different blood.

“Adamantine,” said Will. He knelt down, wincing and trying to ignore the pain that was lancing through his body. “Go.”

Alex jumped to the ground. Will touched the circle on his arm, the one marked for carbon. The energy flowed through him – he could never understand how different it was with a circle, how much more thought he had to put into it -

The wall came up from deep beneath the ground, breaking through the crust of asphalt and soaring into the sky. It reached from building to building, curving like a half-finished dome across the street, clear as glass with a hundred thousand facets inside.

The man kept coming, but at the sight of the wall, the mouth closed, teeth clicking together as the flesh folded closed over them. All that was left was a crease stained with blood. The man placed his hand on the adamantine.

Will got to his feet, grinning despite himself. “Can't break that, can you?”

“No.” The man's expression didn't change. “We're not done here.”

“I'm not dying. Not for you.” Will glared at him. The wall caught his own reflection and threw it back at him. “Not today.”

The man didn't respond. Then, he inclined his head in a nod. “Not today.” He turned and walked away.

Will watched him disappear, nails digging into the palm of his hand. Then, as the man vanished into one of the alleys, he finally let himself collapse.

* * *

He drove his hand into the wall, again, again, until the broken brick rained down as dust.

Fool.  _Fool._ Even the Beast was laughing at him.

He had no regrets. William Elric had been an alchemist, after all, a dog of the military. And the soldier had written his own death warrant the day he sold his soul to the army.

But...

But he had been the  _wrong one._ The eyes had been right, but the moment the Fullmetal Alchemist had opened his mouth, he knew that his search was not over – it had been wasted from the start.

He had to start from the beginning again.

 


	30. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took forever, and I apologize! This marks a rather big change in the story, although the full implications won't be obvious for a long while yet.
> 
> No, we haven't met Juliet before this.
> 
> TW for harassment, war/genocide reference, PTSD/mental illness, injuries, food, racist/dehumanizing language, religion. 
> 
> Lyrics are by Imogen Heap. (Any commenters making 'mm whatcha say' jokes will be summarily keelhauled.)

 

~30~

 _ransom notes keep falling out your mouth._  
mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs  
speak no feeling, no I don't believe you  
you don't care a bit you don't care a bit

_**-Hide and Seek** _

 

Rose had never seen her city so quiet. Even this early in the morning, there should have been kids playing, school doors opening, market stalls setting up for business along the broad central roads, wives heading to the olive groves arm in arm and swinging empty baskets in their hands...

Well, quiet or not, she had her own schedule to keep. She locked her room behind her (things changed, but life went on, you just had to adjust the best you could) and spared one more wistful glance out the church window before heading outside to the stone steps. The sand had blown all over the place again overnight, and she picked up the broom that lived just inside the entrance.

Then she saw the writing on the door. She sat down, legs going weak for a moment, and tried to swallow the lump that had appeared mysteriously in her throat. She didn't have time to let it bother her, though. (And it would all pass soon, people had been hurt but nobody had died, and the rift would heal eventually.) She still had her washing-up water inside from last night, and with a bit of scrubbing it would come off.

It was when she came out of the door for a second time, holding her half-full bucket, that she noticed the figures coming down the main street. They were still a long way away, but they had definitely come from the desert. Not soldiers, then. Rose ran through her mental checklist – she should have food to offer them, perhaps clothes... And, of course, she had to get the door clean before they got here. No reason to get more strangers involved in Lior's dirty laundry. One had been enough.

Rose got onto her knees and pulled the washcloth out of the bucket, wringing it out before starting in on the 'L', scrubbing at the white paint. She supposed she couldn't blame them. She stayed in the church (for where else could she go? This was her home, the only one she had ever known, even while Kain had been alive) and refused to say anything supporting either side. What was the point? They'd fight it out, and the man above would find a way to profit no matter what. Rose... Rose would treat the injured, try to keep the city in working order, and let the waiting settle between her shoulderblades next to all her other burdens.

She heard the footsteps behind her, but didn't turn around, moving on to the 'I' that had dripped white trails down onto the stone.

“Good morning.”

Rose stopped mid-scrub, and turned to look over her shoulder. The girl standing behind her stared back, violet eyes bright and intense under her tan hood. “Um, good morning. Hello.” She stood up, trying to stand in front of the last two letters so the traveller wouldn't see them. And what else could she be, wearing the colours of the desert and looking like she hadn't slept in a few days?

“Are you in charge of this place?”

It took a moment for the words to process, especially in the stranger's accent, and it took far, far too long for Rose to manage to stammer out a response. “N-no, I'm – I'm not anybody important.”

The stranger pulled her hood back, shaking sand out of her hair with a faintly disgusted look. “Nobody else is here.”

“It's -” Rose swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how obvious her state of mind must be, to anybody with the presence of mind to look. The girl had a face like a statue, cold and pristine. “It's early still,” she managed to say, and it was mostly true.

“My companions and I require supplies. It has been a long journey, and may be a longer one yet.”

Rose nodded slowly. “We keep some supplies ready in the church. I-I can get them for you – how many of you are there?”

The girl looked thoughtful at that. “...Four.”

“Four?”

“We ended up with an extra.”

“An...an extra...person?”

The traveller just nodded, her eyes betraying no sense of amusement. She was _serious,_ realized Rose. “Um – let me, uh, let me get them then -” Rose ducked inside the church, and only once it was too late did she realize that the stranger would be able to see the word still visible on the dark wood of the door – _LIAR_ emblazoned in half-erased white paint.

 

* * *

 

Will opened his eyes to a ceiling he didn't recognize. That in itself wasn't unusual. Besides, most ceilings kind of looked the same after a while. White plaster, some sort of lampshade. It wasn't the hospital, he could tell that much – hospital ceilings were linoleum and far more brightly lit than this one.

“Alex?”

No response.

He jerked upwards, and then collapsed backwards again with a wince, hand flying up to the empty socket. One arm, that was right. He remembered _that_ part. _The Gate,_ came the thought unbidden, memory and dream running through his head on parallel tracks.

He could smell something frying, and he eased himself upwards again, trying to get stock of his surroundings and remember exactly how he'd gotten here. He was still in his clothes, but somebody had slid an oversized black t-shirt over his head, probably to keep him warm in the night. Or had a night actually passed? It must have – the light outside told him it couldn't be past noon. He'd lost twenty-four hours.

“Alex?” Will looked over at the bedside table (pale wood, marked with coffee-ring stains), but it was glaringly empty. “Alex?” he asked again, swallowing the rising panic. He was in somebody's  _house._ Alex couldn't have just gone exploring.  _Maybe he's with the Lieutenant, or... or..._ He couldn't remember.

He got to his feet, and felt the clack in his automail. He really  _had_ done something to it yesterday. Selim wasn't going to be happy with him. But he could walk on it, which was good enough for now. Then he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection – bruised, battered, a scabbed-over cut on his lip, and most notably, a bandage over his forehead. He touched it experimentally, and flinched – he supposed that had come from the bricks collapsing on him.

The smell was starting to become very tempting. He made his way over to the open door, and looked up and down the corridor, leaning against the doorframe. He was in a small flat, built for two people at most, with a dove-grey carpet and walls painted a light green. There was a window just across from the door to his room, and he took a few steps towards it, looking out. East City sprawled out beneath him, the people below looking like dolls.

“You're awake. That's good.”

Will's head snapped towards the source of the voice, and Solaris smiled at him before returning to the pan she was holding over the stove. “I'm making some eggs. I wasn't sure if you'd wake up any time soon, but I figured the smell of food might do something.”

“....Where am I?”

“My apartment.”

“I...” Will shook his head, trying to clear it. “I don't remember.”

Solaris didn't look back at him this time. “Alex said you might not. It should clear up soon – apparently you've taken a  _lot_ of blows to the head.”

“Only one, recently.”

“They stack up faster than you think. You should be more careful -” She stopped herself, and then continued in a slightly softer tone. “Yesterday wasn't your fault, though. You did very well.”

“Where is Alex?” he hissed.

Solaris tipped the contents of her pan onto a plate. “I have a pile of books in my library, and he's apparently come up with some device or another to let him read on his own, so I think he's in his own world at the moment.” She slid the plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. “We had a lovely chat.”

Will eyed her suspiciously, then glanced down at the food. The realization that he hadn't eaten for twenty-four hours suddenly reached his stomach, and he picked up his fork eagerly – but stopped, waiting until Solaris had turned back to the stove to start eating. The somehow-soothing clink of dishes and splash of dishwater started up, and the kitchen was filled with a tense but comfortable quiet.

“I'm afraid I have to ask,” Solaris said after a while. “That creature yesterday. You remember that much, right?”

“Yes,” he snapped, a little more crabbily than he'd meant. “I suppose I passed out after putting up that wall.”

He could practically _hear_ the smile in her voice. “Actually, you tottered around for a while, insulted me in some new creative ways, and complained loudly about being given the choice between here and straight back to the hospital. So all in all, you were quite normal.”

Now _he_ was smiling. Clearly he was in a better mood than he thought.

“But you recognized the cr -” she seemed to catch herself, “the man yesterday. You knew him.” She turned around and leaned against the stove, drying her hands with a dishtowel. He'd never seen her without gloves before.

And then her question processed. He put down his fork. Somehow he wasn't hungry anymore. “...I don't want to talk about that,” he murmured.

“A few people I trust are coming over in an hour or so for a debriefing and a discussion of what happens next. Don't keep information from us, Will.”

“Don't _scold_ me,” he hissed. “Besides, I don't know what good it'll do -”

“You'd be surprised.” She set the towel aside and pulled on a pair of short, black gloves. So she wore them at home, too – they looked strange when she was in such casual clothing -

“ _Will._ ” She sat down across from him. “Please,” she said after a moment, and from the look on her face, it hadn't come easily.

 _What do I say?_ he wondered. _That creature shouldn't exist? I don't know the man but the thing in his stomach and I have a nodding acquaintance? It's not like she'll believe me._ Instead, his hand crept back up to the arm that wasn't there, the empty sleeve bringing a lump to his throat. “...It happened again,” he murmured, and started at the sound of the words. He hadn't meant to say it out loud.

“What did?”

He swallowed, swallowed again. He was too vulnerable here – one arm, Alex somewhere else, his head spinning and spinning and spinning - “Remember when we first met?” he asked suddenly.

She frowned, but nodded. “Shortly after your transmutation.”

“No automail, just...” He swallowed again. “We paid the toll. Equivalent exchange. Nothing can be gained without sacrificing something.”

“I'm an alchemist, I know this. What are you -”

“Didn't you ever wonder what the tollkeeper looked like?” He closed his mouth abruptly, his hand reaching up to his empty shoulder again.

For one moment, Solaris's mask slipped away, and it was like he'd been thrown back in time, back to her standing at the foot of his bed, horror and pain and anger written in her eyes, and Will could hear it in his mind - _“you foolish, foolish, foolish boy, what were you thinking”_ -

“I've heard of the Gate,” she muttered instead. “It's a legend. A fairytale, a teaching tool for alchemy students. It can't be real.”

Will snickered. “Well, better start believing. It grew legs and came after us. After me.” He was shivering, he realized – it must be colder in here than he'd thought.

“But – it's a _thing._ An object, a structure -”

“It spoke to me, before.”

“It...” Solaris trailed off, chewing on her lip. He could see the doubt in her eyes – she wasn't bothering to conceal it, either. “Will, have you talked to Doctor Holland about the Gate -?”

“What do you think I am, stupid? He's not an alchemist. Besides, I don't think I could do that and not tell him about Alex.” Will met her gaze, setting his jaw and refusing to look away. “The Gate is _sentient._ I don't know if what was chasing us is the same thing or an offshoot or whatever. It certainly didn't have red eyes -”

“ _He._ ”

“He? Listen, if that thing was human -”

“I'll err on the side of caution.”

“I hope caution means finding a way to blow its brains out.”

“You're awfully violent for someone half my age,” she commented with a wry, unconvincing smile. She got to her feet again, tugging at her turtleneck sweater, returning in the smooth movement from a woman you saw in a coffee-shop or a bookstore to Colonel Solaris, Flame Alchemist. Will decided he much preferred the former. “The others should be here soon.”

“Who's coming?”

“Valjean, Hughes and Major Armstrong.” She gave him a small smile. “You seem disappointed.”

Will returned the smile with a scowl. “I don't know Armstrong, and Chamond and Davidson saved my ass.”

“That's all well and good, and they'll be commended for that. It doesn't mean I trust them.”

“With _what?_ ”

“I'll wait until everyone is here. It'll save me trouble.”

Will rolled his eyes, and rested his chin on his hand – or tried to, and threw himself backwards in the chair when he realized that the hand that he _would_ have moved didn't exist. Stupid phantom limb – he'd thought he was done with _that_ particular annoyance, but now it was back. Just another frustration cycling back to drag him into the past.

Speaking of which...

“Colonel, what happened to you?”

Solaris raised an eyebrow questioningly. “If you're talking about the high heels, I was on a date.” The joke hung dead in the air for a moment before she chuckled awkwardly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “...You mean the, uh... the match.”

“Yeah.” Will sat back in the chair, trying to look relaxed and ignore the itching of his bandages. “What happened?” he repeated.

“It's pretty unfair, when you think about it – you got attacked your first day out of the hospital. I'm starting to think I should just put you under house arrest -” She was babbling.

“Diana,” he interrupted, and she started, glaring up at him with a reprimand already forming on her lips. “What. Happened?”

She licked her lips, then turned back to her stove, moving pots and pans around in a transparent attempt to look like she was cleaning up. Will hadn't ever seen her so on edge and nervous – mad at him, sure, that was a regular occurrence – but this was different. She was... well, if Will actually thought her capable of the emotion, he would have thought she was _ashamed._

After another tense, creeping silence, she sighed. “There was... There was a war,” she said wearily, and was quiet for so long that Will thought she was going to leave it at that. “... _We_ called it a war. They didn't.”

“They?”

“The Ishvalans.”

Will bit his lip. He'd heard that word before – he didn't know what it meant, but he'd heard it in passing. He remembered soldiers, passing through; he remembered Mr. Bradley coming home and promising Selim and Minna he was home for good this time, but wounded people had kept showing up at the Bradley house, day after day. He and Alex had left with Izumi, and when they'd come back to Rizenbul – he hadn't even noticed, so caught up with their dream of a life restored – there wasn't a hint of military blue-and-gold to be seen.

Solaris ran her fingers through her hair, straightening her back. “That was a long time ago, though. Usually I'm fine.”

“Usually? Great. You still attacked me.”

“You challenged me,” she responded dryly.

“It was supposed to be a friendly match!”

“I can't take back what happened. The best I can do is transfer you to another command, which I was perfectly willing to do until  _this_ happened.”

Will blinked, with a sinking feeling in his chest like he'd had the floor yanked out from under him. “...Wait, what? You lost me.”

She took a deep breath, shoulders moving up and down, and then turned back around, leaning against the stove. “I understand that you're probably not comfortable with me as your CO now. So once I've taken care of... whatever it is that happened yesterday -”

“ _You?_ ”

“-once I've done that,” she continued, “I'll transfer you to a different post. Besides, I think you've scoured the entire East on your quest, so a change of scenery couldn't hurt -”

“What the  _fuck?_ ”

“It's for your own good.”

Will ground his teeth. “So when were you planning to ask _us?_ ” he snapped.

“I didn't need to. I saw the way you looked at me.” A haunted look passed over her eyes like a shadow – she blinked, and it was gone. “You should have a healthy respect for your CO, but that goes both ways. I...” She trailed off.

Will stared down at his hands –  _hand –_ trying to sort through his thoughts. He couldn't get them in order, all jumbled up and tangled together ( _she's got it all wrong that's not what I want, don't do this cause you think i need it, I don't trust anybody else, i almost trust you)_ but above the restless roar came a half-memory, becoming clearer by the minute.

He moved his eyes up his arm. “...You changed my bandages,” he murmured.

There was no response. Instead, Solaris cleared her throat and shifted, looking a little uncomfortable. “Yes. They needed changing.”

“You changed my bandages and patched up the number I did on my head, and unless someone else was here while I was sleeping, you put a shirt on me as well.” Will squeezed his hand shut. “Yeah, I can tell how hard you're trying to get rid of me.”

She smiled, still not quite meeting his eyes. “...I suppose that's true,” she murmured.

* * *

 

From behind the library door, Alex mentally rolled his eyes. He really shouldn't have been listening in, but it was hard to break a habit, and besides, Will's version of events would probably be drastically different from what had _actually_ occurred. Probably something along the lines of 'the Colonel is totally eating out of my hand'.

He glanced behind him, back at the photo he'd found hidden in the bookcase. He'd tried to put it back, but he wasn't quite that dexterous, and besides... he was curious.

Alex's thoughts and the quiet conversation outside were interrupted by the creak of the door. “Mornin'!” came the cheerful greeting in a familiar voice, and Alex squeaked in embarrassment, trying not to feel too excited. The Lieutenant was here.

“Lieutenant, I didn't give you a set of keys so you could come marching in here without so much as a knock.” Solaris was trying very hard to sound unimpressed, but it wasn't really working. _She's happy to see him,_ Alex noted, _...more than usual, anyway._ Will might have missed the chemistry and familiarity between the two, but he certainly hadn't. Then again, he didn't have much to do aside from watching others.

“Don't be ridiculous. Of course you did,” teased Valjean, collapsing into the chair across from Will. “Oh, hey, eggs! You eating those, kid?” When Will shook his head ( _I will make him eat if I have to shove it down his face,_ Alex promised himself mentally), Valjean grabbed the plate and sat back, putting his boots up on the table and hastily pulling them off again as Solaris shot a warning look at him. “ _Fine,_ I'll take them off. If somebody dies from the stink, it'll be your fault. Where's Alex?”

Alex started at the addition that had come so quickly on the heels of Valjean's banter. He hadn't expected to be asked after so quickly.

“In the library,” replied Solaris, who was already starting to relax, but Will snickered at that.

“Yeah, in the library, listening in.” Will glanced over at where Alex was standing.

“How do you know?”

“Because when I walk in there he's going to start lecturing me about things he wasn't actually there for. Which, I might add, is not his _job._ ”

“Somebody's got to keep you alive,” Alex snapped, “and I can think of a better end for the great Fullmetal Alchemist than tripping and falling over the gigantic _foot_ in his _mouth._ ”

After a moment of shocked silence,Valjean started laughing, putting down his plate (which was already empty) and heading towards the library door. He pushed it open, looking down at Alex with a raised eyebrow. “Stealthy. The little outburst at the end ruined it, though.”

If Alex could have, he would have blushed. “Will never tells me anything,” he muttered, a little defensively. “And he apparently knows everything I do anyway.”

“That's _my_ job,” retorted Will. “And if you weren't so predictable, it wouldn't be so easy.”

“Right, being a harbinger of chaos wherever you go is _so_ much better.”

“So I'm predictably chaotic. That works.”

Valjean knelt down, offering his hand, which Alex climbed onto with gratitude. “Finally, a ride. I climbed up and down those bookshelves all on my own. Never again.” _Will's looking happier already. I guess poking fun at me helps his mood._ Not that Alex couldn't say the same.

“So who are we waiting on?” asked Valjean, placing Alex carefully on his shoulder. He was wearing his casual clothes today, with the same fashion-disaster of a vest thrown on over his tank-top. “Maes and Alex?”

 _I'm already here,_ Alex was about to say, when it processed. “There's another Alex?”

“Mhm, Major Alex Louis Armstrong. Nice guy, a bit overdramatic.”

Solaris visibly cringed at that. “A bit? Well, he certainly brightens up the room.”

Alex waited until Valjean had settled back into the chair before sliding down his arm and onto the table. “...How are you feeling?” he asked Will quietly, sitting down in front of the saltshaker.

He only got a shrug in response, but it told him enough. It was all he needed.

* * *

 

When Rose came back out of the church, the girl was staring at something else. "What is this?" For a dreadful moment, Rose thought she was talking about the graffiti, and then she realized she was gesturing to a poster on the church wall, faded almost beyond legibility and tattered at the edges.

"Oh! That's... that's old."

"Yes, but what  _is_ it?"

Rose ran her fingers over the old paper, softened by time. "It's a phonetic alphabet. Soldiers use it on the radio."

"Are there soldiers here?"

Rose shook her head. "There were, a few years ago."

"Read it for me."

"...Read it for...?"

The girl waved at the poster in what Rose assumed was annoyance. "I don't know your letter system and I don't want to. Read it for me."

She chuckled. “It's just a list of words. Alpha, Bravo, Charlie...”

“Keep going. This is interesting.” The girl let Rose continue for a moment, then interrupted. “I don't know most of these words. What do they mean?”

“Well, they don't have to mean anything. They're just words and names.”

“Oh! Which ones are names?”

“Charlie, Mike, Juliet...”

The girl raised an eyebrow. She seemed amused, although Rose had no clue why. “Juliet?” she repeated, saying it slowly and strangely in her accented voice. “I like that. Do Amestrians have second names?”

“Yes, usually.”

“What are Amestrian second names like?”

Rose blinked, trying to figure out how to answer that. “It depends where you are, I guess.” _Of all the things to be curious about..._

“Tell me more.”

Rose bit her tongue, and counted to five. “If you're going deeper into the country, you'll have to learn how to say _please,”_ she said finally.

The girl blinked. “If I want something?”

“Yes! It's polite!”

“....Please tell me more.” The girl followed it up with a small smile that sent Rose's heart hammering against her ribs.

“What do you want to know?” she managed to stammer out, finally having the presence of mind to put down the packs she'd brought out from the church. It was strange – she'd thought all the travellers from the east had black hair, but the girl's hair was a dark brown, turning chestnut under the bright sun.

“I'm looking for a name I can travel under. Already I am drawing more attention than I would like.”

There was a lump in her throat, suddenly. _It's always the travellers,_ Rose thought wearily. _They come and they go._ “...Douglas,” she said after a while. _Kain Douglas, walking up to me with the same curiosity and sand in his hair and a South accent, Kain Douglas, smelling like apples and boiled sugar and desert wind._ “Juliet Douglas.”

“I like it.” She glanced over at the church. “Is there a place to stay for the night?”

Rose shook her head, almost too quickly. “This isn't a good place to stop.” She hadn't even noticed the sparkle in the girl's eyes, but now it was fading. _Stay anyway,_ she almost said. But that was her selfishness speaking.

“We'll keep moving, then.”

She closed her eyes, trying to hold back the prickle of tears. _Stay,_ she almost said. Instead, she opened her eyes again. “Is your journey dangerous?”

The girl – Juliet – said something in a language Rose didn't know. “From some perspectives.”

“Do you think it's dangerous?”

“If I didn't, I never would have come at all.”

Rose reached into her pocket, rubbing the chain between her fingers, chewing on her lip. Then she pulled it out, cradling the amulet in her open palm and tracing the filigree. The open eye, the petals surrounding it, the five fingers each delicately carved in bronze.

“What is that?”

“A _hamsa._ A symbol, for good luck.” _I need it more than you,_ she thought. _We need all the luck we can get._ Instead, she dangled it from its chain and held it out to the stranger. “I wish you well.”

Juliet hesitated for a moment, then took the amulet. “Thank you.” She picked up the packs, hefting all four of them onto her shoulder. “I wish you well,” she repeated, before heading off down the road, back straight and clouds of sand billowing up under her heels.

Rose sat down on the edge of the fountain, dry and stained red from the wine that had flowed so freely. She'd given away her good luck charm. But...

_No matter what happens, I was true to what I believed. Cornello might have been an impostor, but I am not. Feed the hungry, protect the helpless, give shelter to the weary, in the name of our God._

 

The moon rose, the sun set, and the night-time chill began to settle in – and as the last vestiges of light disappeared, a wail of mourning echoed over Lior.

Rose knocked on the door to Cornello's office. Even before he had said 'come in', she had walked in, trying to pretend that there weren't tears streaming down her face, tracing trails through the pale sand dusted onto her skin.

The man playing the part turned to look at her, a smile playing over his lips. “Rose. How are you -”

“Sahar Jasmin just died,” she said quietly.

The smile faded. “I'm sorry,” he said, and she almost believed it. “From the riot yesterday?”

“Somebody hit her over the head. We don't know who.” _We – what a lie. I'm an outsider to both groups – a foolish martyr to one, a blasphemous fool to the other._ “Don't act like you're sorry,” she continued in her quiet voice, unable to raise it, unable to stop the tears that made her sound like a naive little girl. “This is your fault.”

“I know.” He got to his feet, perching on the edge of the desk in a way that Cornello never would have done. “But we all do what we're told. And all I did was show up, really.”

“I could tell them who you are -”

The man who was not Cornello smiled. “Rose, you know that's not going to work. Who would believe you?” He crossed his arms. “This church has kept you safe only because I'm still here.”

“Who are you?” she asked, before a sob wrenched itself from her lips. “Who _are_ you? A demon? A trick?” Another sob shook her, and she fell to her knees.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she flinched but didn't pull away. “Go to sleep, Rose. I mean it. You're tired, you're mourning. And remember – you can always leave. You're not my prisoner.”

She looked up at him, at the eyes so full of fire – the same fire that Cornello had played at creating with impassioned speeches and holy miracles.

“This is my home, and my coffin,” she whispered. “And this is _my_ family that you have torn apart.” Rose got unsteadily to her feet, pushing his hand away. “Remember that the next time you patronizeme,” she spat, and she managed to put some iron into it.

“Fair.” He backed away, holding up his hands with a wry grin. “That's fair. Goodnight, Rose.”

She almost replied, and then turned away, slamming the door behind her.

 _This is my home, and my coffin._ And she could already feel the earth falling on her, blocking out the sky.

 

 


	31. Violet Hill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long! School is kicking my ass, and I was having a really hard time characterizing some of the people in this chapter. The troublesome two aren't in this one, sadly, and for the next little bit we're going to focus more on the Elrics themselves – as much as I love Diana, she isn't actually the main character. (cue Diana in the background complaining loudly)
> 
> Thanks very much to Shade40, my lovely beta, who has finally updated their amazing fic which everybody should read~ 
> 
> Song is by Coldplay. And the song has a wider context that is definitely relevant to this chapter.
> 
> Trigger warning: war, death, blood, genocide, body horror, food, mental illness, emotional abuse

~31~

 

_And if you love me,_

_won't you let me know?_

_**-Violet Hill** _

 

The sand was running red under his feet, and the air hung heavy with the smell of gunpowder and rot. Six years of war wasn't kind to any country, and this was the epicenter – the place where it had all began, and the place where, now the order had passed, it would end.

He held the order in his hand. Below him, around the city that stretched below the dunes and to the banks of the river, a band of blue-and-gold closed in the militants and rebels and innocents alike. Inside, the Special Forces were doing their work.

He held the order in his hand. He could have destroyed it. No matter how long he lived, he couldn't quell the guilt that sometimes rose in his mouth like bile, a feeling completely at odds with his duty and his obligations to his brother, to his family, to the goals he'd dedicated himself to centuries ago. Their lives were in his hands, and he couldn't avoid making the jump to the unshakable fact that their blood would be _on_ them as well.

He held the order in his hand, in a manila envelope sealed with the Fuhrer's stamp and signed with his scrawl. And he watched.

There was a scream of anguish, and it took him a moment to locate its source – a house on the outskirts, still inside the blockade of soldiers, close enough that he could watch the scene unfold. She marched out first, pulling off her brown shawl and tying back her black hair with an assured, authoritarian grace. The Ishvalan man followed behind, half-running and half-crawling, clutching his hand and blood dripping from it. He was crying – it had been his scream, and even now, he was reaching for her.

The observer shook his head. What a fool. Just because she hadn't had Amestrian blonde hair and blue eyes, he'd trusted her, taken her in. Had faith in her because of her appearance. Humans never did learn.

The tall woman pushed him aside, pulled on a glove that had once been white away from the pervasive dust and dirt and sand of the desert. She snapped her fingers – and in a rush of heat and light and fire, the house they'd vacated exploded into an inferno, papers and cinders and ash rushing up and out the windows, staining the onlooker's faces.

There was another scream, and a sob. He reached for her, but she turned away – he grabbed her hand, and she wrenched his wrist away until something snapped.

The observer kept his gaze steady, even as his stomach turned.

Later, she was the one who came up to him, wearing black charred leather with the demure Ishvalan shawl long gone. “Orders from the Fuhrer?” she asked.

He nodded with his borrowed face, and handed her the manila envelope. “Congratulations. You're not just here as Special Forces anymore. You're here as a State Alchemist.”

Her face betrayed nothing. “And what does that mean?”

“It means, Major Solaris, that the Fuhrer and the council have come to a decision.” He nodded at the envelope. “Make sure your superiors get to see that. I'm not staying any longer than I have to.”

There was a small quirk of her brown lips at that. “Not to your taste, Heiderich?”

“What can I say?” Pride returned the small smile, even though it didn't reach his lips. “I'm a man of peace.”

* * *

 

 

**SIX YEARS LATER**

 

Yesterday had been his day off, and even in a city he'd rarely had occasion or inclination to visit, Alex Louis 'Sander' Armstrong had made the best of it. He'd bought a windowbox for the dormitory he was staying in and spent the morning happily planting it with begonias and geraniums; afterwards he'd had lunch with some of his compatriots from Investigations who had been dragged to East City along with him and spent the afternoon in the East City gymnasium. That night, he'd called his parents and heard all about Flo's pregnancy cravings (Aerugoan spinach noodles with grated carrot and caviar) and how Bernie's baby had taken her first steps (apparently the boy had gotten out of his carriage on his own and taken his first steps towards a picture of his great-grandfather). Catherine still didn't have a boyfriend and Olivier still didn't have a husband, and Sander had very kindly allowed his mother to bemoan that fact for a good half an hour before he reminded her that, as a general, Olivier had very, very important things to do. He wisely didn't add that half of them involved cackling over the fallen hordes of her enemies – Mother had a sensitive constitution.

He'd gone to bed at ten o'clock.

He'd woken up at roughly seven to his phone ringing off the hook, and the operator proceeding to connect him to Hughes, who very calmly asked him to look outside the window.

“Hughes, why is there a wall ruining my view of the city?”

“It's kind of a long story. On the upside, there's been a break in our case!”

“Really! That is _very_ good news!”

“The _downside_ is that it's the Beast case.”

“I suppose that is still good news.” Beat. “Please don't ruin that. I had such a lovely day yesterday.” 

* * *

 

An hour of arguments (none of which he participated in), grumbling (which he tried to alleviate with humour and Armstrong fortitude) and somewhat childish tantrums later from the boy who was _apparently_ the Fullmetal Alchemist that Solaris had complained so heartily to him about, the two of them were standing on the station, waiting for the train that would take them to Rizenbul. Sander couldn't help but wonder what he was missing. 

“...So,” he said after a far too long and uncomfortable silence, “we're going to see your automail mechanic?”

“Yes,” Will grumbled. “Already established that.”

“What are they like?”

“He's nice,” he mumbled, closing his eyes.

“Have you known him for a long time?”

“My whole life. So yeah.”

Sander shifted again. He'd been prepared for just about anything else. Solaris had called Maes (and often Sander as well) and complained about how Fullmetal was obnoxious, a chatterbox, impudent, impatient, even stubborn. But clearly the events of the last few days had taken their toll – that or Solaris had been exaggerating. “Solaris speaks very highly of you,” he tried, but was met with radio silence. William still had his eyes stubbornly closed, and Sander prepared himself to reach out and catch him if he fell over. The poor boy must have been tired.

He decided to leave him alone, although the silence was eating at him. He broke his promise approximately five minutes later. “It'll be good to be out in the country air. I've always said it's good for the constitution, getting away from things for a while.”

“For the love of alchemy, please _shut -_ ” Will's outburst was interrupted by the train pulling into the station, and he stalked onto the train. Sander was a little hurt, but that didn't last long – that was the most spirit he'd seen from Will since they'd left Solaris's apartment. Sander supposed if irritating him into life was his only option, it would have to do.

* * *

Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be working. Will was staring out the window with the same disinterested expression he'd had for the last hour as the train moved into the suburbs of Central, large estates and walled gardens giving way to smaller townhouses in rows that looked down on the railroad from high promontories and slowly sloped down into the valley. 

Sander, however, doubted that Will was admiring the architecture. He put his pencil to the page again, adjusting the curve of the teenager's nose, the sharp jut of his chin. His eyes were far away, a little bit glazed – focused on something long ago and lost. It wasn't a look Sander had hoped to see on the face of someone young enough to be his own child.

“William,” he said after a while. “Would you like something to eat?”

“No,” he retorted sharply – then bit off the word, cocking his head. Then he sighed. “I suppose I should. I dunno. I hate train food.”

“I packed some sandwiches. I made them in the old Armstrong style.”

“I can't eat your food,” Will grumbled. Another turn of his head, another slight wince. “I _mean,_ I can't eat food that you packed for yourself. That's what I meant. All I meant,” he mumbled, head slumping back onto his arm and gaze fixated out of the window.

“Nonsense. A sandwich is a sandwich, and you're young. You need to eat and keep your strength up. This garlic aioli recipe has been passed down through generations! And besides, I've heard that reconnecting automail is extremely painful -”

Will had lifted his head and reached his hand out for the offered sandwich, but the last sentence for whatever reason made him twitch, and his fingers closed tightly around the foil-wrapped package. “Painful? _Painful?_ He has to rebuild the whole damn _thing!”_ His fist clenched, almost as if in a spasm, squeezing until the package burst at the ends. “I might have to wait a _month_ before it even _gets_ to be painful! And the whole time I could be -” He let out a choked sound and threw the package at the wall of the train car in fury, chest heaving – then raised his hand, looking at it with a strange expression. “...Excuse me,” he mumbled, shoving his way out of the car.

Sander stood up, ready to go after him, but he didn't know what to say. He supposed it was good to see something from the boy other than apathy. He'd just hoped to find somewhere to start. And he was already mourning that poor defenseless sandwich.

* * *

“You don't have to be so hard on him -” 

“Shut up, Alex!” Will drove the heels of his palms into his eyes, rubbing, rubbing again. “Just – shut up, _please,_ I can't, I _can't_ listen to you right now -”

Alex pushed away the resentment that flickered inside him at that. “Sit down and take a deep breath -”

“I _know,_ ” Will snapped, but followed Alex's instruction anyway. He'd hidden himself in the baggage compartment, and the space where the door hadn't quite shut was shining a spear of light into the musty darkness. Will snatched at some of the floating dust motes. “When did you become such a fuckin' hippie anyway?”

“Excuse me?”

“You're just as bad as I am,” muttered Will. “So don't lecture me.”

“Just as – I don't yell at people who haven't done anything wrong!” The strange dissociation that always came with his anger was settling on him now – his heart was _supposed_ to be racing, his cheeks were _supposed_ to be getting hot -

“He's treating me like I'm a baby,” Will complained. “And it's not like you could yell at him anyway,” he added with a nasty scowl. “So stop taking it out on me, okay?”

More of that dissociation. He could almost feel the fist that was supposed to be curling, the teeth he wanted to bare, the growl that was supposed to be building in his throat. Instead he was nothing but calm. False calm. So instead, he shut down. Closed his eyes, or whatever it was he did that achieved the same result. He couldn't stop listening, though.

“You can't even remember it,” Will whispered. “You don't remember what the damn thing looked like. Or felt like. Or _sounded_ like.” His entire body shuddered, and it felt like an earthquake. “And now it won't go away.” He fell silent after that, but Alex could feel his brother's breaths coming that little bit too fast to be those of somebody asleep.

There wasn't anything to say, not that he could think of. Slowly, the anger subsided, and instead, without really understanding why, he felt the guilt sink into his soul. _No, I don't remember._ But whatever it had looked like – or felt like – or sounded like, the monster they'd fought (that _Will_ had fought, he corrected himself) was some remnant of it. That was enough to give his brother a little slack.

* * *

Will knocked on the door of the compartment before walking in, trying to look somewhat pulled together as he entered and gave Major Armstrong what he hoped was an unreadable look. Then he slumped back onto the wooden bench, folding his legs under him. 

“Are you feeling better?”

He refused to look at Armstrong again, staring out of the window – but in the reflection, he could still see the moving shapes behind him, too many of them, ghostly afterimages over the countryside rolling out beyond the train-track. He closed his eyes instead.

“Will?” Alex whispered, but he ignored him. Both of them were distractions, and he just wanted some _quiet._ Some peace.

The whispering continued, and Trisha's voice cut through it, lancing into his swollen brain. “You shouldn't ignore your brother like that. He's scared for you.”

Will didn't respond, didn't open his eyes – but he could feel every muscle in his body tense with the urge _not_ to scream, to turn back to her and tell her to fuck _off,_ he needed to be _alone –_ but he was never, ever alone. Even in the few moments when Alex wasn't with him he was never, ever alone.

“William, you look sick. Is there anything I can get for you?”

“Just be quiet,” he moaned in protest. His head hurt so much, and he was putting so much effort into not _looking_ at anything, at anybody, and ignoring what was behind him, and maybe it would go away and not touch him or pull him or -

\- _his body had dropped to the pavement but his head had stayed behind and there'd been so much blood -_

_\- so much blood all over the wood floor and his leg, his leg was gone, and he couldn't find Alex, couldn't find him -_

_-couldn't find Alex where was Alex the wall had come down and suddenly Alex was gone -_

“William, please, talk to me -” The hand on his shoulder was unexpected (it really shouldn't have been) and he thrashed out with an arm that, he realized belately, was no longer _there_ and suddenly he couldn't avoid looking at Armstrong any longer, at his tall muscled figure wreathed in shadows that the tall man barely even seemed to _notice,_ and suddenly there was a scream that sounded like the grinding of stones and it took Will too, too long to realize it was coming from him -

He buried his face in his knees again, but he could still feel it, he knew it was still there – even if he _didn't,_ how could he trust his senses?

 _Everything is real now._ Even though he could acknowledge that he was a panic, he couldn't deny it. _There are no rules. I just – told myself there were -_

“Will,” Alex whispered, voice breaking a little. “Will, it's not _real,_ I _promise -_ ”

“I know,” he whispered back. “I – I know that – I used to -”

The hands came back, softer than before, one taking his hand and almost swallowing it, the other rubbing his lower arm and gently pulling it from his knees, coaxing him into relaxing. “It's a trick,” Trisha whispered. “It's okay,” whispered Alex.

“What were you seeing?” asked Armstrong in his low grumble of a voice, and Will's head snapped up, then winced away again at the sight of the shadows behind him.

“Dunno what you're talking about,” he mumbled.

“When you look at me, what are you seeing instead?” There was no judgment in his voice, nothing but an undertone of sorrow.

Will forced his eyes back up, and made himself focus on Armstrong's blue eyes instead, and the curl of golden hair hanging on his forehead. “...It's not...you. It's...behind you.”

“Is that who you were talking to just now?” he asked.

“No, that was my brother.” Will gave Armstrong a crooked smile. “He's six inches tall and lives on my shoulder.”

“Ah, I see.” Armstrong glanced over his shoulder, then back with a smile that managed to be both comforting and intensely sparkly. “Well, I don't see anybody behind me. And I'm sure if I check your shoulders -” He pushed Will's hair away, then his eyes widened. “...Oh. I wasn't expecting that.”

Will choked out a laugh, and Alex stepped out onto Will's knee, turning back to give Will what couldn't be anything but an unimpressed look. “It's okay. Nobody ever is.”

Armstrong sat down on the bench, hard. “...I suppose today is a day of impossible things.”

“Just today?” Alex snorted. “This is our _life._ ”

“Don't confuse him, Alex,” Will mumbled, mood lifting. The shadows were starting to retreat, even if he could still feel them, just out of reach. “The walking hellmouth was new.”

“Okay, yes, that was new.”

Will lifted his head a little higher, trying to ignore the weight that was still there, the self-consciousness that was slowly settling in his stomach. “How did you know?” he asked, hoping Armstrong couldn't hear the shake in his voice. “You don't even _know_ me.” Later, he would try to be angry. Later, when he had the energy for it.

“We all have our battles,” Armstrong replied in a quiet voice so unlike his usual bombastic shouting that Will wondered how much of his enthusiasm was for his own sake. “I do hope you'll believe me when I say I understand.”

Will shrugged in reply. “I guess,” he mumbled. His hand rose to his neck, barely touching the still-sore skin. “Yeah.”

_We called it a war._

* * *

Rose buried her face in the pillow, clutching her hand to her chest and biting back the sobs that threatened to burst from her throat. He was outside. She knew he was. What she didn't know was why. 

Finally the figure at the door moved, measured steps moving into the room. She kept her gaze stubbornly turned away, but she could see his shadow on the floor – it _had_ to be his, anyway. There was nobody else it could be, even if the shadow was the wrong shape. He wasn't wearing his ghastly mask anymore.

Rose closed her eyes, resisting the temptation to look. “What do you want?” she asked, hoping her voice didn't sound too strained.

“You hurt yourself.”

She stayed stubbornly quiet, even though the pain of it was making her tongue curl and the muscles in her wrist seize.

A scrape of a chair. A sigh as he sat down, abnormally young voice still disorienting, even after all this time. “Let me look at it.” A hand rested on her shoulder, and her entire body shrank away.

“It's fine,” she managed to reply. It wasn't the injury that hurt, not really. She'd gotten between the two opposing factions, trying to get some of the children out of the way. The stone that had slashed open her palm had been thrown by someone she'd known since she was ten years old – and she couldn't shake the feeling that it had been thrown _at_ her. _Meddler. Traitor. Blasphemer._

He sighed, then said nothing else for a while. _Why won't you leave?_ She wanted to scream. _Why did you come here in the first place?_ Even through their taut conversations and sparse interactions, she'd never managed to coax an answer from him.

“You should leave. Tonight.”

“ _What?_ ” She sprang upwards in her surprise, turning to look at him – then recoiling a little. It wasn't that he was ugly. Quite the opposite. She just hadn't expected him to be so...young.

There was a wry laugh, underlaid with a bitterness that she wasn't sure she'd been supposed to hear. “It's time to get out of town, Rose. It'll be too late in a few days.”

“Too late?” She swallowed. “N-no, things are getting better, this has just been a rough patch – We'll be _fine._ ” _And we would have been fine sooner if you'd never shown up._

“The military's coming.” He stood up with a groan, stretching his lithe arms above his head. “I don't plan to be here when they arrive, and you shouldn't either.”

“You don't – _No!_ ” She gritted her teeth, violent thoughts she'd never before been able to glance at without cringing rising intrusive in her mind. “You can't leave _now!_ ”

“Really?” he retorted sarcastically. “Thought you couldn't wait to be rid of me.”

“But if you leave _now,_ then -”

“My job's done. And yours was hopeless from the start.” He headed towards the door, fingers curling around the doorjamb. “...I did warn you,” he added in a quieter voice, and even without ever getting a clear view of his face, Rose could hear the sadness underlying his goodbye that echoed the empty weariness in her own heart.

There was no decision, of course. There never had been.


	32. First Train Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay on this chapter! I know, I keep saying that ^^; I've gone back and rewritten Chapters 2 and 3, and will probably keep doing so up to chapter 5 or 7 or so, so I have a better handle on King and Selim as characters now. So if you've been planning a reread, you probably want to do that soon!
> 
> This chapter is not currently betaed, but if all goes to plan, it should be soon, and I'll post the updated version once it is. 
> 
> TW: death, internalized homophobia (minor), PDA, PTSD, attempted suicide reference, dysphoria, misgendering
> 
> Song by Imogen Heap.

~32~

 _Is this an echo game? Irises retreating to ovals of white._  
_The urge to feel your face, and blood rushing to paint my handprint._  


_**-First Train Home** _

William woke up at one o'clock on a dark, humid morning with an undefinable sense that something was terribly wrong. His first impulse was to glance over at Alex, but she – _he,_ he reminded himself, more out of habit than anything else, now – was sleeping peacefully, brown hair poking out of the cocoon of sheets in messy tufts.

 _Go to sleep,_ he tried to tell himself. _Just a bad dream._ His heart was hammering against his ribs, and he placed a hand over his chest, trying to remind himself to breathe. It was nothing, nothing to be worried about at all -

-but he'd been dreaming of Mom, and he just got _feelings_ sometimes, and it couldn't hurt to check.

Will pushed the covers to one side, easing himself onto the floor with a grace that he'd only just started to develop in his years with his teacher. Then he slid through the door, trying to avoid opening it any further so that it wouldn't creak, and worked his way down the stairs.

Izumi was sitting up again, sipping a glass of water. That wasn't unusual – she got fits of insomnia just like he did, and they'd had any number of strange, slightly unfocused conversations in the early hours of the day. Alex, damn the little jerk, never seemed to have any issues.

“Teacher?” he said quietly, and she glanced up, surprised expression smoothing into a soft smile.

“Good morning, Will. I suppose it's morning, anyway.” She gave her glass of water a black look. Will couldn't figure out what it had done to her, but he never questioned Izumi too much. “What'll it be? Water, milk, juice?”

Will stifled a laugh at that, sitting down at the table across from her. Izumi was nice, but he liked her best at night when she treated him like an adult, even if he didn't understand half her jokes.

He stared down at his hands, feeling more ridiculous by the moment. “Uh, actually, I -” He swallowed. “Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night and know something really _bad_ is gonna happen?”

Izumi paused, then put down her glass. “...Sometimes,” she said carefully, and he squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze. “They're not always right.”

“I just – I wanna be sure. Can...” He swallowed. “I want to call home.”

“At this time of night?”

“I just wanna make sure,” he repeated, fingers entwining and twisting in and out of each other. “Mr. Bradley's only just retired, and – and – I don't _know!_ ” Will waited for Izumi to yell at him or tell him to go to bed – even this late at night, she had no patience for his random bursts of fear.

This time, though, she seemed to realize that whether or not she understood it, the fear was very real to him. “Alright. You'd better call now – it'll take a while for the operator to connect you all the way to Rizenbul.” She reached over the table and stroked his hair. “Let me know what happens.”

Will picked up the phone, waiting patiently for the connection. The feeling was still there, lodged just below his ribs. Then there was a click. “H-hello?” he said nervously.

“... _Will._ ” It was Mr. Bradley's voice, tired and haggard. _“I...hello. You've called at kind of a bad time.”_

“Why? What's – what's going on?” From across the room, Izumi paused and turned around, worry etching itself onto her face.

“ _I...”_ King cleared his throat. _“It's...It's Minna,_ ” he said finally, voice breaking. _“There was...there was an accident.”_ There was a pause, a long, horrible pause. “ _I lost her, Will.”_ And he began to cry.

 

* * *

**SIX YEARS LATER**

 

Of all the habits from Lyon Hall to keep, Selim grouched internally as he slowly awoke to the light of the just-risen sun in his face, the 'early-to-rise' mentality had to be the worst. It didn't matter how much he'd actually slept – the moment the sun had risen far enough to reach through his ground-floor window, the tender embrace of sleep was kaput. Zilch. Gone for the hills. Up and at 'em, Bradley.

Well, he was up. At 'em was going to have to wait until after coffee.

“Morning, Dad,” he grumbled, stumbling over the tips of his oversized, borrowed slippers as he came down the stairs, already pulling his comb through his unruly hair.

“Good morning, Selim,” he replied, licking his thumb and flipping the newspaper. “Look a little happier, son. It's a beautiful day.”

“The sun's been up for five minutes,” Selim retorted, pouring himself a cup and wincing as he spilled some on his hand. They'd gotten the ground beans as a gift from a customer a year ago – he'd been Aerugoan and clearly hadn't realized how much his gift was worth this side of the border. Selim hoped he came back. “How can you know it's a beautiful day yet?”

“Hmm, just a feeling.”

“Right.” Selim collapsed into the chair across the kitchen table from King, blowing on his cup to cool it down. “...Anything interesting?”

King smiled. “The Fullmetal Alchemist Strikes Again: Xenotime Saved From Deadly Plague.” That earned him a snort from Selim, and he wrinkled his mustache at his son before continuing. “In yet another stunning exploit from the youngest State Alchemist and military recruit in Amestrian history, the impoverished town of Xenotime, previously known for its gold mines, was rescued from the very brink of disaster – good lord, who _writes_ these things?”

“What, no mention of his impeccably made automail?”

“Oh, there never is.” King peered at Selim over the newspaper. “That's a _good_ thing, you know. It means he isn't being reckless with it.”

“Of course he is. This is _Will_.” Selim took a sip, leaning his elbows on the table. “So I'm going to work on the Gerber order today. It's Liesl's birthday in a month, and I figure a new leg is a pretty good present.”

“Hmm.” King raised his eyebrow. “How old is she turning again?”

“Thirteen. She'll be the youngest person to get the surgery, short of Will.”

“Who was a special case.” King lowered the newspaper enough for Selim to see the thoughtful, somber look on his face.

Selim could _feel_ himself getting angry, but he only shrugged, trying to keep his voice even. “No reason he has to be. Liesl's otherwise healthy, but she won't stay that way if she has to lie in bed for the next six years.”

King nodded. “You should ask -”

“Besides, it was a clean amputation and it's healed over nicely, so the surgery won't be too hard on her, and below-the-knee is always easier – all in all, you couldn't ask for an easier -” He was rambling.

“ _Selim._ ”

Selim closed his mouth and took another sip of his coffee, stubbornly refusing to look at his father. “She's not even a real mechanic,” he burst out petulantly, knowing it and unable to stop himself. “A real mechanic doesn't _quit._ ”

“I raised you better than this!” King snapped. “At least give her the respect she deserves.”

“I _am._ Just because you -” Selim's rant was interrupted rather fortuitously by the sudden sound of Den barking at the front of the house, scratching at the door. “...I'll go see what's bothering her,” he mumbled. The same argument, over and over again. _I'm just trying to do something good,_ he hissed mentally, not even bothering to say it out loud this time. _I don't care about Pinako, I don't care and I hate him for trying to make me care._ Hate was a strong word.

“Push in your chair.”

“Yes, Dad.” Selim shoved the chair into the table with a clatter before striding off towards the door. “Den, what is it?” He bent down, scratching behind her ear and already feeling his frustration subside at the feeling of her fur under his fingers. It was still there, a smoldering cinder in the back of his mind, but there was nothing unusual about that. _My morning was going so well, too._ “Do you need to go out?”

Den kept barking, tongue hanging out of her mouth. With a wry chuckle, Selim unlocked the door, pushing it open and giving her a pat on the side. “Go on. Dad's right. It's a nice d-”

He froze. Down the path, paused on the slope of the hill with a dumbstruck expression, was Will. He met Selim's eyes with an awkward smile, then waved, a face peering out from underneath his just-as-green hair. “Hi! I'm home!”

Selim sat down. Hard. “... _Will?_ Alex?”

Will flashed him a grin that didn't quite distract from the bandages around his head. “Howdy. Miss us?”

Selim opened his mouth, then closed it again, jaw working soundlessly and teeth gritting.

“Oh, come _on._ ” Will laughed. “You don't look _nearly_ happy enough to see us.” He started moving up the hill, limping a little. “What's the matter, cat got your tongue -”

Selim scrambled to his feet and started marching forward, pushing up his sleeves (which would have looked more intimidating if he hadn't still been in his pyjamas) – and Will's easy smile turned into a look of growing, somewhat exaggerated panic.

“Where – have – you – _been?_ ”

“Alex?” Will murmured.

“You dug the hole on your own,” came the small, resigned response.

“Come _on!_ ” Will grinned at Selim again, a little more sheepishly this time. “We've been – places. Doing stuff.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Saving people,” Alex supplied wryly.

“Toppling governments -”

“Researching hypotheticals -”

“Rescuing cats -”

“I _know_ about all that! I read the newspapers, you know,” Selim scoffed. “Two _years,_ you ornery, no 'count -” He brought his hand up to Will's face, then settled for wagging a finger at him. “I fix your automail, and what do I get? You _high tail_ it out of here like a goddamn -” _It's not his fault,_ he reminded himself, but he was still fired up from his argument with his father – and _besides!_ Two years!*

“It's not like we didn't call!” Will held up his hand in protest.

“Oh, _right,_ you _called._ Good for you! I -” Selim stopped. It had suddenly registered that Will was only holding up one hand. His eyes dropped down to the empty sleeve of Will's jacket – and really, how often did Will _wear_ his coat? - and a quiet 'Oh' dropped from his lips. “...What happened?” he asked. Stupid question, but he honestly had no idea what could have _possibly -_

Will shrugged, but a faint flush was covering his cheeks. “I got a bit beat-up -” The sleeve of his jacket fell down his remaining arm, revealing the bandages wrapped around it, and he hurriedly lowered his arm. “Er.” He gave another awkward grin.

Selim gaped for a little longer. “Alex, you're supposed to keep him _out_ of trouble!”

“Lock him in a tower,” Alex replied dryly. “Considering he won't get a haircut, it's the best place for him anyway.”

“What happened to brotherly love? I'm hurt, really.”

Selim rolled his eyes. “Well, you two certainly haven't changed.”

“Says the giant himself,” Will grumbled. “I didn't tell you you could _grow._ ”

He smirked, stepping a little closer to Will to show off the growth spurt. Somehow, he hadn't noticed until Will pointed it out, but he was decidedly taller than him now. “This is new.”

“Oh, _boo._ ”

“Stop complaining and come inside already!” Selim grabbed Will by the shoulders and propelled him towards the door. “Besides, now you know how Alex feels,” he couldn't resist adding.

There was a peal of laughter from Will's shoulder, and he groaned dramatically. “You're all so _mean_ to me.”

“You'll live.” Selim paused in pushing him around to lean in with a smile. “I did miss you two, you know.”

“Oh, good. I'd have to kill you if you didn't.” Will tapped his chin. “By the way, if a giant comes knocking at the door, let him in, will you? Otherwise my CO will yell at me.”

“...A giant.” Somehow, Selim had _also_ forgotten just how _weird_ his friends were.

Will hopped out of Selim's grasp and skipped up the stairs, surprisingly gracefully considering he was missing a limb. “Don't worry, he doesn't bite. He's my bodyguard.”

“You have a giant as a bodyguard.” He cocked his head. “...giant compared to _which_ of you?”

“Yes, I get it, I'm small,” Alex grumbled. “That's going to stop being funny one day.”

Selim snorted at that, then turned to look down the path, half-expecting the giant to come strolling up that very moment. “Hey, wait a moment – you never actually _told_ me how big -”

But Will and Alex were already inside, and he could hear his father's voice mingling with theirs. They'd probably already gone and made themselves at home, knocking all the old pictures slightly askew, stomping up and down the stairs and getting into loud arguments.

Selim sat down on the grass, and when Den pawed over to nose at his cheek, he ran his fingers through her fur, trying to ignore the strange feeling in his chest. He'd missed them – but it was more than that. His mind kept returning to Will's missing arm, and the dark shadows around his eyes.

Den whined at him, and he laughed quietly, scratching under her chin. “I know, I know. I worry too much.”

He'd join them in a minute. It was nice to have them home.

* * *

King examined the two boys over his newspaper, bristly eyebrow rising and his one dark eye looking them up and down. Will tried not to squirm.

“Well. The prodigal sons return.”

“Sorry we were away for so long, sir,” Alex murmured, and Will dug his toes into the concrete floor, avoiding King's piercing gaze.

That was met with a peal of laughter, and Will jumped despite himself. “Oh, it's _sir_ now? Somebody's been teaching you two some proper manners.” King rolled up the newspaper, got to his feet and rapped Will sharply on the head with it. “Next time, have the decency to call ahead.”

“Yes sir,” Will mumbled. He'd _meant_ to. He'd just been... somewhere else. _I wonder what's under his eyepatch,_ came the panicky, intrusive thought, out of nowhere – _I wonder if it's the Gate I wonder if it'll open up and -_

Out of nowhere, he found himself beginning to calm down. There was a quiet 'click' as Selim closed the door behind him, the pad-and-thud of Den's mismatched paws on the floor, and one by one, the knotted muscles in the back of Will's neck started to relax. Not completely – but enough.

King seemed to notice, or perhaps Will was reading too much into things. “Selim, why don't you take our prodigal miscreant upstairs and get some of that awful stuff out of his hair?” He reached forward and offered his hand to Alex. “Alex, you can tell me the truth behind all those newsworthy adventures of yours.”

“I'll tell you about them!”

“Not if I want to know what _really_ happened, you won't.” King gave Will a lighthearted tap on the cheek, setting Alex down on the coffee-table. “Now go clean up. You smell like the road.”

“Blame the train,” he grumbled. He cast a quick look at Alex, guilt rising in his throat – _I yelled at him again I'm not supposed to do that –_ but with a deep breath, summoned another smile that became easier to wear with each second.

He followed Selim up the stairs, exhaustion seeping into his bones. He'd escaped Armstrong at the station to iron out details and report back to the Colonel, so he'd be getting _another_ lecture at some point or another – even if Armstrong was too nice to do it, Solaris would probably bite his head off. _Yeah, yeah, he's here to protect us._ The last thing he felt was protected.

Except, he was here now. _Home,_ his mind supplied, but he pushed the thought away. They'd burned their home down, finished the job that Solaris had started, and all so they could stay on the path they'd chosen. _Did you choose it? Or was it chosen for you?_

_Stop that. Think about that later._

He was just so – fucking – tired.

“Will?” Selim stood at the entrance to his room, and Will managed to summon the smile back up. The smile vanished at the next few words. “Are you limping?” Selim asked, and all of a sudden, he just wanted to cry.

His leg. He'd forgotten about his damn leg.

“It's fine.” He brushed it off, and took another step, trying to correct for the limp. The leg overextended, and suddenly, the ground was coming up towards him – he tried to catch himself and that arm _wasn't there -_

Another pair of arms caught him before he hit the ground, and he released the breath he'd been holding. “Thank you,” he whispered, and closed his eyes. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't worry about it,” Selim murmured back. “I built you the stuff, remember? Here -” He tucked Will's flesh arm around his neck, tugging him gently to his feet. “So what happened?”

Will winced a little as Selim pulled on his bandaged arm. “Oh, the usual. Got in a fight with my supervisor, cornered a bad guy, got a little beat up... Standard fare.”

“Uh huh.” Selim guided Will to the room, step by tortured step, and glanced down as he did. “Doesn't look like your leg's in _too_ bad shape, although it's probably getting old.”

“Old? You told me this would last me for five years!”

“Yeah, for a quiet, studious person like _me._ ” Selim poked Will's cheek, only to get a tongue stuck out at him in return. “For _you,_ thank god it lasted as long as it did.”

“Great.” He grunted as Selim eased him onto the bed. “So, no lecture?” he added, quietly.

Selim shrugged, getting to his knees in front of Will and pulling the black sock off of the bottom of his automail. “No promises,” he teased, but there was an edge to it. “You _were_ supposed to come back for checkups twice a year.”

“Things got complicated.”

“That's what they all say. And then you show up with an _arm_ missing.” Selim kept his gaze firmly focused on Will's leg, so that all the older boy could see was the top of his dark chestnut hair. “I'm a mechanic, not a miracle-worker.”

Will stared down at Selim, a soft smile on his face. “I don't know about that,” he murmured, almost too quietly to hear, then reached forward, running his hands through Selim's hair.

“Oh, for – Will!” Selim's head darted up again, and for a second, Will thought he was reacting to the touch on his head – then his hand came into view, holding a clump of decidedly-green hair. “Tie your damn hair up!”

He burst into laughter at that, and losing his balance, fell backwards onto the bed, the empty sleeve of his coat flapping down next to him.

“It's not _that_ funny,” Selim complained plaintively.

“It's _hilarious!_ ” Will levered his head up, giving Selim an amused glare. “All the stupid shit I do to this leg, and I fucked it up with my _hair?_ ”

“It's not the only thing,” Selim grumbled, although there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “I'll tell you, though – it's _certainly_ not helping.” He stood up, dropping the tangle of hair on his bedside table.

“What do you suggest, dear?” Will drawled. “A ponytail? Or maybe some cute pigtails.”

“A hairc-”

“Say haircut and I eviscerate you.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Selim's attempt at a straight face finally failed, and he grinned ear to ear. “You're ' _armless._ ”

“Fuck you!” Will kicked at Selim's shin, and much to his surprise, it actually landed. With a yelp, Selim landed on the bed next to him, and was greeted by a hand on his face. “Take it back.”

“Never,” came the muffled response.

“...Okay.” Will removed his hand and pushed his face into Selim's chest. “You gonna fix my arm?”

“That involves building you a new one. Which involves you letting me get up.”

“Not stopping you,” Will mumbled. He'd forgotten what home smelled like – machine oil, grass and a little bit of wet dog. He wanted to tell Selim everything – his fight with the Colonel, the plague in Xenotime, the way he'd chased Psiren over rooftops in Aquroya -

_-the gate tell him about the gate-_

_-shh it's okay everything's okay you're home now-_

Selim's fingers wound through his hair, picking at some of the tangles. “You know, this wouldn't look so bad braided up. You know, like your teacher's.”

He smiled at that, his hand reaching up to touch Selim's shoulder. “I'd have to actually brush it first. Although I can get most of the tangles out with alchemy.”

“You and your alchemy. You _can_ live life without it, you know.”

“I know! It just makes life easier.” Will raised his head – and realized he was closer to Selim than he'd planned. Their noses were almost touching. _I don't know what I'm doing... I want to – I want to -_

_FREAK_

He levered himself upright, leaning down to look at his leg. “So is this totally busted? Or can I hobble around on it til the arm's done?”

“By _no means_ are you walking on that thing. I'll get you a loaner.”

Will groaned, head falling onto his knee. “But _Selim..._ ”

“No buts.” Selim got to his feet, and Will thought he could feel something coming off of him – disappointment, maybe, or regret. He couldn't quite tell. “Sit there and let me get it for you.”

“Can you get me a basin of water too? Need to get this gunk out of my hair.”

Selim laughed quietly. “Well, if you insist.” He seemed ready to say something else, but instead, he just smiled and ruffled Will's already-disastrous hair. “Give me five minutes.”

Will smiled in return, even though it felt a little forced. All he wanted to do was sleep, sleep and forget that anything had happened at all.

He'd just close his eyes for a minute. Selim would be back soon.

* * *

The smoke from King's pipe drifted up from the steady embers in the bowl, disappearing against the sky that was rapidly fading from orange, to purple, to deep blue. Alex couldn't help but remember how much thicker the smoke had been when he and Will had burned this house down, how angrily it had billowed into the sky. The timbers of it were laid out before the two of them now, and he had a moment of disconnect where he could _feel_ himself standing where the doorway had been, covered in mud, listening to another lecture from his mother about ladylike behaviour and where _have_ you been, young lady?

That had been so long ago that the memory barely registered anymore. By the time Alex had turned four, Trisha had gone weeks without leaving her bed. By the time he turned five, she was dead and Will had made it perfectly clear who he blamed.

“So, Alex. How are things really going?”

Alex thought that question over, probably longer than he should have. King seemed to take the silence as an answer.

“I see. No success, then.”

“We find leads every now and then, but they never seem to amount to much. There was – _something –_ in Xenotime, but it was too dangerous, and then we lost it anyway.” Alex tried not to think about how many leads there'd been, how many dead ends. How many _fakes._

“Will you ever tell me what it is you're searching for?” King held up a finger, forestalling Alex's response. “Beyond 'a way to restore yourselves'. What are you really chasing?”

 _A ghost,_ Alex thought. “I don't think Will wants me to tell you.”

King took the pipe out of his mouth and blew another waft of smoke into the evening air. It was probably getting cold out, Alex realized. “As far as I'm concerned, Alex, you're an adult. But I suppose if you don't want to tell me, I can't force you. I have another question, anyway.”

“What is it?” he asked, somewhat warily.

“What happens next?”

“Next?”

“After you find what you're searching for.” King indicated the pile of timbers in front of them, which said enough on their own.

“We'll be whole again. That'll be enough.”

“Hmm.” King turned his head, giving the boy on his shoulder a long, unreadable look. “You've been searching for something long before you and your brother broke the taboo.”

Alex closed his eyes, feeling the emptiness yawn inside his chest. “I don't want to think about what comes next. It's not important. Not right now.”

“There's nothing wrong with planning ahead.”

 _Yes, there is,_ he thought quietly to himself. How could he try to make plans for the future when he spent so much of his time wondering if Will would even have one? “I -” _It's our secret, keep it secret, he doesn't need to know because then he'll start worrying about us and I can't handle it, I can't handle somebody else worrying about Will -_

“What is it?”

It burst out in a rush. “Will tried to kill himself. A few months ago.” He could feel how King paused, the stiffening of the tendons in his neck. “And he's – he's _fine_ now, he barely remembers it, but _I_ remember it, and...” He stopped himself, mostly because he'd run out of words.

“And you -”

“I stopped him,” Alex replied miserably. Unspoken was the quiet understanding that it hadn't been the first time.

“That can't have been easy.”

“Well, I used alchemy, I might have been rougher than I should have been but he's _really_ stubborn, and -” Alex paused. “That wasn't what you meant.”

“You're a good brother. I hope he appreciates what you do for him.”

“I hope so too,” Alex whispered. He wasn't sure how much he really meant it. “I just don't think I can do this for much longer.”

King took the pipe from his mouth, leaning a little more heavily on his cane. “Then I suppose you boys need all the help you can get.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I've always pictured Rizenbul accents as being somewhat Southern, although the travels and education of Selim, Will and Alex means that they don't sound fully Southern. Still, it gives me a chance to use some really ridiculous Southern American insults.


End file.
